


Elyria's Reluctant Marquis

by 1JaggedOutlawQueen



Series: Outlaw Queen [3]
Category: Captain Swan - Fandom, Outlaw Queen - Fandom, Ruby Slippers - Fandom, Snowing - Fandom, Zades - Fandom
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:40:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 173,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27141217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1JaggedOutlawQueen/pseuds/1JaggedOutlawQueen
Summary: Part I of Robin Hood's backstory
Series: Outlaw Queen [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872643
Comments: 37
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own little, least of all, the delightful characters in the story you are about to read.
> 
> For the purposes of this story, please assume that all events are occurring in modern-day Storybrooke in the year 2015 unless otherwise noted.
> 
> Word to the wise… Technically, this story was written after Gift of the Gods. However, timeline wise, this story happened first. As such, there may be a few mismatch facts. If so, I heartily apologize.
> 
> Marchioness is pronounced "Marsh-an-ess."

**Kingdom of Elyria**

**Thorncrest Hall**

Yes, it's been years, and Beatrice is no fool. She knows that time is a fickle friend; mercifully kind and gentle with some, while it ravages others without even a shred of remorse. Her 66 years have taught her that. Still, the unmistakable decline of the woman before her, the woman she hasn't seen these 43 years, is beyond shocking, and she purses her lips together tightly and straightens her spine praying that her shock doesn't register on her face.

As the old woman struggles to sit upright in her bed amongst the finest linens and pillows that her money and notoriety can afford her, she wheezes with the effort; her breath coming in jerky stops and starts and Beatrice Atherton hears an undeniable death rattle if ever she's heard one. Cecilia Eldebury is surely not long for this world. Already, the stench of death and decay emanates from the body her soul isn't prepared to quit.

"Well, don't just stand there as rigid and as silent as stone!" The old woman coughs laboriously. "Unless time has taken your hearing, I trust you heard my request, girl"

"Aye, Cecilia. I heard you, but you will call me 'girl' no longer. I may have answered your summons, but I am no longer your servant, and I'll be damned if I'll be treated as such!"

"Such insolence! How dare you speak to me in such a common manner. I am to be addressed as Your Ladyship, as you well know!"

Beatrice stubbornly holds her ground. "Beggin' your pardon - Cecelia - but you lost the respect due any person I consider to be my superior, the day you chose to hand me my walking papers along with a wee newborn bairn swaddled in a tatty wool blanket you deemed unfit for your precious lap dogs to lie upon."

"I could have you flogged for a disgrace such as this!"

"You could. But you won't. Not if you don't want the public to find out what you did all those years ago. How do you think the court would feel, parliament, the dutiful subjects who afford you the right to call yourself Marchioness of Elyria? How do you think Lord Eldebury will feel? How do you think they will react when they find out that you gave birth to the son of a lowly common man; a common man who, I might add, was not your husband."

"You wouldn't dare!"

Beatrice scoffs snidely. "You do not scare me, Marchioness. I am no longer beholden unto you. And I assure you, you have absolutely no means by which to make me do your bidding. So, go ahead; have me flogged if it warms the lonely recesses of your cold and shriveled heart, but I do not know where he is. I lost touch with him many years ago. And furthermore, even if I did know where to find him, I will die before I call that precious boy back to your side!"

Having said all she cares to say, the younger, healthier of the two women turns on her heel and strides for the door.

"My goodness, Beatrice, I knew you were not particularly fond of me but, I'm afraid that it never occurred to me that you could hate me so venomously."

Hand on the doorknob, not turning to face the bedridden octogenarian, Her Ladyship's former handmaiden breathes quietly, "I don't hate you, Cecelia. You are a sad old woman who is dying, and like so many before you, you're seeking absolution in the 11th hour. It's a pardon you know you don't deserve. You gave away the greatest joy of your life, and you are too vapid and self-absorbed to realize that you have no right to ask for him now and, for that, I pity you."

"I need him."

Beatrice's laughter is harsh and humorless. "Yes, you certainly do; more than you know. But all those long years ago you asked me to see to it that he didn't need you. I've done as you asked me to do, and even if I could, I wouldn't undo it now."

"You don't have to do it for me, Beatrice but, I beg you, find him and bring him home. Do it for your friends and your neighbors. Elyria needs him… and you know it."

* * *

**Storybrooke, Maine**

Robin Locksley hands his wife a chilled glass of lemonade before he lowers himself to the ground beside her beneath one of the many young apple trees he planted ten months before when she agreed to marry him and reside here in their magnificently rejuvenated old-world apple barn with him and their boys. Courtesy of a honeymoon cruise, and a little good magic, not to mention their own abiding passion for one another, her belly is now heavy with a child she declares, with unwavering certainty, to be a girl, and Robin just couldn't be happier about it.

Reclining beside her on a plaid wool blanket, he props himself up on one elbow and rests a tender hand against her swollen middle. "How is the little firefly doing this morning?”

When said firefly kicks in response to her father's touch, Regina closes her eyes, breathes deeply, and grimaces. "She doesn't kick like a firefly. She kicks like a 120-pound world champion soccer player."

"Well, that's okay. She can play soccer if she wants to."

"Yes, she can, but I would appreciate it greatly if you did not encourage her to play soccer while she's still inside my uterus! Robin, she kicks every time you touch me."

He flashes his lazy grin and croons softly, talking more to his unborn daughter than to his wife. "That's because she's smart. She knows who her daddy is. She's just saying hello, aren't you, sweetheart?

When he kisses her belly through the loose-fitting material of Regina's casual but elegant ankle-length bohemian style dress, his daughter kicks again and her mother groans, fanning herself and begging for relief. "It's bad enough this summer heat won't relent, Robin. If you're going to insist on touching me every time you possibly can, could you at least ask your daughter to say hello a little more quietly; a little more gently."

As she sips lemonade, Robin takes one of the magazines on the blanket beside her and fans her with it; adding to her efforts to keep herself cool. "I don't know why you insist on sitting out here. If you're so uncomfortable, come in the house, mi'lady. What did we go to the trouble of installing an air conditioner for, if you're not going to use it?"

"I've told you. I'm tired of being cooped up inside. She's calmer out here. At least, when you're not touching me." Regina yawns. "Robin, really, I love you…" She growls in frustration, "but go away and leave me alone! And, whatever else you do - stop touching me! Just let me sit out here in the shade and take a nap!"

Robin kisses her temple as he eyes the forgotten tray beside her with the plate of uneaten food on it."

"Will you at least take a few bites? Real bites? Stop nibbling like some tiny little bird. She needs food."

"Correction, she did need food - at 7:00 this morning. Robin, this is the third breakfast you've brought me in three hours! I'm nibbling basically just to make you feel good because, if I take another bite, I'm going to explode!"

He smiles. "So, you're saying, I'm smothering you?"

Regina nods aggressively. "Yes, this is what I'm saying!"

"Would you like me to make myself disappear for a while?"

"A few hours would be perfect. Take the boys with you…" She smiles softly. "But don't stay gone so long that I start missing you."

"You know, at the risk of irritating you further, granting your every wish would be a whole lot easier if you'd make up your mind what you want."

"I don't know what you mean."

He raises an eyebrow and offers drolly, "Go away, but come back before you have time to miss me. The problem with that, is sometimes it quite literally only takes two minutes for you to miss me. Other times, it takes six hours. And try as I might, I have devised no reliable way of telling which one of those timeframes is applicable at any given moment."

Suddenly contrite, Regina groans apologetically. "I'm a shrew! I'm a big, fat, pregnant, evil shrew; and I'm driving you crazy. I wouldn't blame you if you decided to divorce me before we even see our first anniversary."

Robin chuckles softly. "You're the most beautiful shrew I've ever laid eyes on. And I wouldn't dream of it! Take your morning nap. Go to sleep. I promise I'll still be here when you wake."


	2. Chapter 2

The road between Elyria and Sherwood is hard-traveled and inhospitable. Torrential rains and the subsequently soft earth turn the three-day carriage ride into a five-day nightmare filled with mud holes, broken axles, and weary travelers.

Not about to set out for the local forest after dark, Beatrice Atherton willingly pays the price for a night spent at the Rose and Crown. Under any other circumstances she would have considered it frivolous and wasteful, but after a hot meal, and an indulgent bath, she falls into bed and sleeps as soundly as it is possible for a woman of her age and means to do while in a strange bed.

Awake only twice in the night, she rises early the next morning, dresses in her second-best apparel, laces her boots up tightly and sets out on foot. Not far outside of town, she looks over her shoulder when she catches the sound of sleigh bells. Stepping to the side of the narrow dirt road to allow the on-coming wagon passage, she offers a reserved but friendly smile to the driver of the plain, but serviceable wagon when he takes the lead.

Some twenty feet ahead of her, he slows his team and looks back over his shoulder. "It's a long walk down a lonely road, Mrs. Not another house for a good ten miles in the direction you're headin'. I don't suppose you'd be likin' a ride now, would ye?"

She eyes him politely but warily. "Thank you for the offer, sir. That's very kind of you, but I'm no stranger to a long walk." She gives the newly fashioned walking stick she acquired from the remains of a fallen elm tree shortly after the start of her journey a spirited shake.

Nodding, he tugs at the brim of his weather-beaten hat in a gesture that encompasses both greeting and farewell. "Far be it from me to bother a lady, but I've got more than enough room up here in the seat, or I suppose you could ride in the back of the wagon if you want to. I'll be happy to drop you anywhere you want as long as it's on my route. It's gonna get mighty hot out today."

Shielding her eyes from the early morning sun, she lifts her chin and studies the heavy lines around his kind eyes. She glances at calloused hands made wide and gnarly by a lifetime of painstaking manual labor. He's big. Not just his hands; all of him. Although he looks a little neglected, and he probably possesses brute strength, that age is only just beginning to sap from his big body, he's no boorish cad.

Making up her mind, she steps forward and reaches up, offering him a hand in greeting. "Beatrice Atherton. You're sure it's no trouble."

When he smiles down at her, it's the kind of wide smile that swallows the bottom half of his face. "Me name's Theodofolous Bannerman, Ms. Beatrice, but me friends just call me Teddy. Glad to know ye. Climb aboard."

On her way around the wagon, she lifts her bag into the back behind the seat before accepting the hand he offers for support as she minds her skirts and climbs in, he waits for her to get settled comfortably before lightly tapping the reins against the backs of two stout mares. "Git up girlies… and away we go."

She ducks her head slightly to hide the smile she can't deny herself. And thinks silently, "Git up girlies?” Long or short, it matters not which. This ride is not going to be boring.

"Where you be heading to this fine July morning, Ms. Beatrice?"

I'm headed out to the haunted forest. She answers without the slightest hesitation.

He shoots her a sideways glance, it's meaning indecipherable, but to his credit, he does not mock her. "Me daughter's say that place is full of dark spirits."

Beatrice shrugs. "I suppose that's why the people of Sherwood call it haunted."

"That seems a good bet. I'm guessin' you're not believin' in ghosts, then?"

"Oh, I believe in them. I'm just not afraid of them. It's the living who scare me. No ghost has ever tried to do me harm."

Teddy shakes his head, laughing softly as though he's looking at something he's seen 1000 times before; only this time he's looking at it through new eyes. "I reckon you got a point right there; you have."

"You've got daughters?"

"Three of them, I have. And seven grandgirls." He says with obvious pride.

"Any boys?"

"The gods didn't see fit."

"That's too bad. Still, with three daughters, your wife must've been very busy."

"Aye, she was. God rest her. Me Rachel's been gone now for three years."

"You have my sympathies."

"I thank you for that but there's no need for 'em. She was a fine good woman. We had lots of years and very few tears."

"That's the way to do it, I suppose."

"Is there a Mr. Atherton?"

"Not since my little brother died… a lifetime ago." She offers him a melancholy smile. "And he was barely a mister."

"Any other siblings?"

She shakes her head.

"No husband, and no immediate family? That's a lonely way to grow young."

She chuckles drolly. "I'm not lonely. It wasn't something I planned, and it certainly was never my intent, but somewhere along the way, I wound up den-mother to a houseful of rowdy wayward boys. When I took in the first one as an unmarried girl of 23, I suppose it sort of limited my prospects. And, it hasn't helped that I've taken in twenty more in the years since."

"Twenty!"

She wrinkles her nose. "Twenty-two, actually."

"Hush up, woman, you're having me on!"

She laughs and shakes her head; almost apologetically. "No, sorry, hand to the gods, twenty-two. Though, as I said, that never was my intent."

Teddy laughs freely. "I don't imagine it was. Any girls?"

She shakes her head adamantly. "People tried to get me to take in a few over the years but bringing home a sweet-smelling young girl to a houseful of rowdy teenage boys who were not her brothers, that seemed like an unwise thing to do."

"I'll say!"

No regrets, though. It was, without a doubt, the best decision I never made. I'm out here in search of my first boy now. I named him after my brother."

* * *

**Storybrooke Maine**

When the back door opens, Henry Sr. looks up from the chessboard resting before him on the kitchen table. Seated at an opposing angle, both of them sharing the same chair, are his grandsons.

"How was the doctors appoint…"

Robin shakes his head in warning, waving his hands, trying to ward off his father-in-law's much-anticipated question.

A few steps behind the retired thief, Regina stomps into the house and, with entirely too much force, she slams the door and then slaps a low-resolution grainy black and white photograph against the refrigerator door and roughly secures it there with a magnet.

Putting their game on hold and rising to his feet to step closer and peer over her shoulder at the photograph, the likes of which he has never seen; Regina's father tilts his head to one side and frowns thoughtfully. "What am I looking at?"

Still in the throes of her frustration, Regina tries not to snap at him. She tries not to be impatient. He is still very new to this world. He's been here less than the year. This is his very first encounter with the wonders of technology as it relates to prenatal care. "Daddy, it's a picture of your granddaughter."

The old king squints and then scowls curiously. He looks from his daughter to the photograph, and back again. "What granddaughter?" He gently touches her belly. "This granddaughter? Are you sure?"

Regina chuckles softly. "Yes, Daddy I'm sure."

She watches her father's eyes widen in shock, surprise, and hesitant delight. "No! They can't do that! Can they?"

Regina nods. "They can here, in this realm,"

As the boys gather around, eager for their own glimpse, Henry whistles low and mutters a partial quote from a line of Shakespeare. "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio..."

Using her index finger to trace the outlines around each specific area at the appropriate moment, Regina says, "See, Daddy, here's her head, her tummy – she's sucking her thumb. See her little fingers. That little black fuzzy dot is her beating heart."

Unshed tears quickly moisten the corners of the old man's eyes. Quietly, he breathes, barely above a whisper. "Will wonders never cease? Blessed be, Regina! This is the sweetest, most beautiful thing I have ever beheld!"

Throwing her arms around him, Regina hugs her father zealously and kisses him noisily on the cheek. "See, how hard is that? What is wrong with my sister? Why can't she do that?"

Confused, Henry and the boys turn to Robin, looking for an explanation.

"After we left the doctor's office today, we stopped by the villa to drop off Eliana's baby blanket Zelena left here when she last visited. All Regina wanted to do was take a minute to proudly show off the new picture of the baby like every other expectant mum on the face of the planet probably does. Our girl is healthy and developing normally, and Regina wanted to share that with her sister, but all Big Red could talk about was how her eight-month-old angel is a demigoddess and she's already using her power to magically call for her pacifier whenever she wants it."

"Which is impressive." Regina cuts in. "It really is, but Robin and I couldn't get a word in edgewise. She hardly even looked at the picture. I walked in here and put it on the refrigerator, and Daddy you didn't even understand what you were looking at because this is completely and totally new to you, and still, you found something truly wonderful to say. You found a small way to celebrate with us. That's all I wanted, but I swear, here lately, you can't get Zelena's attention if you're not immortal. She's obsessed! I mean, I know my kids aren't gods and I don't expect them to be treated like they are, but my children are the three most excellent things that have ever happened to me. It would be nice if she could take two seconds and acknowledge that!"

Regina sighs and offers a tired smile as she gently touches Roland and Henry's faces with maternal affection. She breathes deeply. "I'm sorry guys. I'm grouchy, I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I'm hot. Norah and I are going to take a bath. When we come back down, I'll be in a better mood."


	3. Chapter 3

* * *

**Sherwood Forest**

After parting with her kindly escort at the last possible stop along his route and leaving him with her gratitude and an apple, generously offered from her lunch pail, Beatrice sets out on foot once more.

Twenty-five minutes off the beaten path, she steps into the outskirts of the forest widely thought by the locals to be haunted. Twenty minutes more under the thick canopy of trees and vines and she discovers at least part of the reason why.

When the overhead foliage becomes dense enough in some places too nearly extinguish the sunlight, the hushed and hollow sound of rattling bones begins to play a kind of delicate yet eerie music each time the wind blows. It doesn't take her long to find the first of what amounts to a homemade wind chime hanging high overhead in a mammoth old redwood tree. Stepping close to the tree trunk, she cranes her neck, peering up to inspect the curious instrument with eager eyes. Small pebbles and the skeletal remains of small animals are strung together by thickly braided straw to sway and clatter gently in the tender breezes.

Beatrice reasons that unless the place truly is haunted, which she finds highly doubtful, the makeshift musical apparatus was not hung by any musically inclined departed soul, but rather by a human who was, quite possibly, interested in frightening his or her own kind away. Smiling to herself, she reaches into her lunch pail once more and blindly feels for and extracts the plum still waiting inside for her. As she walks, head up, looking for more chimes or anything else out of place or unexpected, she munches happily.

It doesn't take long before she begins to spot small things like bent twigs or pine needles that were recently crunched underfoot. That's when her hearing becomes slightly more attune and she realizes that the singing birds have suddenly fallen silent as if they're keeping secrets. She swivels her gaze left to right, occasionally looking over her shoulder. Although her eyes see only evidence to the contrary, she no longer feels alone in the wood. The presence she senses is not a malevolent one, but a few minutes later when she ambles into an unexpected clearing and finds what, at first glance, appears to be an abandoned campsite, she slowly turns a full circle, 360° using every sense available to her. Somewhere nearby water is flowing. A brook babbles. Damp laundry that smells faintly of homemade soap hangs from a makeshift clothesline and makes a soft popping sound as it catches in the breeze, as do the open tent flaps that rustle softly in the same breeze that still carries the haunting melody of the wind chimes to her ears. The fire pit stands empty, but she doubts it's cold. She's quite certain that if she reached down to touch them, the stones around it would still be quite hot to the touch. She can still smell the scent of boiled coffee and pork wafting heavily through the air. Someone had bacon for breakfast. Eyeing the position of the sun overhead, she estimates the time of day. Judging by the potency of the scent that still remains, she would wager that quite a few someone's had bacon for breakfast. She sees a large piece of broken glass carefully mounted to a tree at eye level. Within easy reach of this makeshift mirror, she finds a tin cup with a well-lathered shaving brush inside it inside a large knothole of the same tree. She counts tin plates and crude cutlery that have been abandoned before they could be washed and guesses there are no fewer than half a dozen and maybe no more than 14 people somewhere nearby. Although her eyes tell her otherwise, they couldn't possibly be any further than calling distance.

Turning another slow circle, she calls out warmly in a singsong voice, "Come out, come out whoever you are… wherever you are."

She waits.

Nothing.

"I mean you no harm."

Nothing.

"I'm a friend; a friend in need."

Still nothing.

"You don't have to be afraid. All I need is some information. I don't have much, but I can afford to pay a small price for your assistance."

The breeze rustles through her hair.

"Please; I've come quite a long way.

She sits down on a tree stump, hoping that if anyone is watching, they will take it as a sign that she's not leaving anytime soon.

"I'm looking for someone dear to me – a man called Robin Hood."

It happens all at once but in slow motion. Trap doors hidden in the earth beneath loose topsoil, pine needles, and leaves open and reveal themselves to be cover for shallow trenches large enough to hold a fully-grown man; sometimes two of them. Males of all ages dressed in clothes of colors and textures that are meant to easily conceal them from view suddenly rise, stepping out of all their various hiding places, revealing themselves to be tucked in among the trees and natural terrain. Two young adults hold bows at the ready. The thin lanky middle-aged fellow who takes point and is the first to step forward carries a large heavy wooden baton with vines tied around it at either end."

"Who speaks of Robin Hood?

"I am Beatrice, Beatrice Atherton.

She relaxes, with a deep sigh of relief, when a wide smile graces his narrow hawkish face, and he approaches with outstretched welcoming arms. "Well, why didn't you say so in the first place, woman!"

He glances over his shoulder and effectively sounds the all-clear, bellowing loudly, "Come on out lads. Come meet Robin's mum!"

* * *

**_Storybrooke, Maine_ **

_"I'm just saying it’s fine by me if you never leave, and we can live like this forever. It's fine by me."_

Leaning against the door jamb of the open back door at the Lucky Feather tavern, Regina peers in casual curiosity at her husband's denim-clad legs sticking out from under the sink in the bar's back room. Amused to find him singing along with Andy Grammer's smash hit; she remains silent for several long seconds because she knows that he's probably not even aware he's doing it. She also knows that if she makes him aware of both, his singing, and her presence, he will stop. So, for several seconds, she stays quiet and simply enjoys the moment.

When the urge to talk to him eventually wins over, she teases, "Robin, what are you doing under there? There's not some bizarre magical creature down there having her way with you; is there?"

Robin is silent for ½ a second before he bursts out laughing. "Would you like there to be? You're more than welcome to join me down here."

Regina squints. "You think I'm a bizarre magical creature?"

Still laughing, he asks, "Aren't you?"

"I think I'm going to choose to take that as a compliment."

"Good; it wasn't meant any other way. Make yourself useful mi'lady, hand me that pipe wrench, please."

Regina steps over the threshold and looks around with mild indecision at the various items in the toolbox on the floor before luck and her severely limited knowledge of household tools combine to help her select the right one. What's a pipe wrench? This big ugly looking thing?" Moving to his side, she stoops slightly and hands it over.

"Yep, that's it, love."

"Robin, that thing is heavy. It would make a formidable weapon. You could use it to crack somebody's skull.

Shaking his head as she peers in below the counter looking at him, he chuckles softly yet again. "Okay, new rule. You don't get to touch the pipe wrench anymore."

Feigning insult, Regina queries, "Aww, why not?"

Because you already wield enormous power in the palms of your beautiful hands. Given a big ugly pipe wrench, I fear you might find someone to bludgeon. It might be just a tad too much temptation for you."

Regina chuckles drolly. "The sad part is, you're probably right. But seriously, what are you doing down here?"

"I'm taking the drain apart."

"Why?"

"Because it's clogged, and I don't want the sink to back up all over the place," He offers her a warm smile. "I'm guessing you don't know much about clogged drains."

"I used to know how to call the plumber?"

"You used to know how?"

Regina nods and shrugs nonchalantly. "Don't have to anymore. See, I married this guy. He has an uncanny knack for fixing things."

He winks at her. "You sure about that. Doesn't look like he's fixed you yet. Knocked you up - but not fixed."

She smacks him hard on the thigh. "You wanna sleep alone tonight?"

He shrugs.

She squints. "You don't care one way or the other?"

"Oh, I care. I'm just betting it won't last too long. You'll miss me."

"Oh, you think so?"

"If I'm not laying there beside you, who are you going to poke at 2:00 AM. Who's going to wake up and bring you waffles and steamed asparagus?"

Regina shrugs, feeling sure of herself. "Daddy will. He loves me."

Robin pauses in his work to look her over. "You're in a good mood."

She shrugs again. "I booked some time alone at the community center's pool today and went swimming. It was nice to get some exercise. It's good for the baby and now I feel like slightly less of a big fat pregnant slug."

"You're not fat, and you're not a slug either. I've seen slugs, trust me, they're terribly unappealing critters."

"And I'm not." Regina scoffs.

Setting down his tools, Robin slides out from under the counter. Reaching up to place his hands on her hips, he pulls her down to the floor with him and whispers, "Definitely not!" The instant before his lips find hers.

* * *

**Sherwood Forest**

"So, you don't know where he is. Is that what you're saying?"

"Oh, no lady, we know where he is, we just have no way to get to him. You see, years ago when the evil queen cast a curse over the Enchanted Forest, some of us merry men got separated. Some of us had traveled outside of the area prior to the moment the land when dark. Everyone who was present at the moment of the casting was relocated to a faraway land called Storybrooke. Those of us who were left behind made our way back to the Enchanted Forest or here to Sherwood. We lost touch with Robin just shy of two years ago when he traveled to the Enchanted Forest in search of funds for our poor. That's where he met the queen who was there on a return trip. Her curse had been broken by that time and cast yet again by others. In the process of trying to break the curse for the second time, our group got split again and many of us traveled to this new realm. We are all that's left of the ones who stayed behind."

Well, if this evil queen can travel back and forth between realms, then so can I. I just need to know how it's done."

"I'm afraid it's not easily done, my lady. Travel between realms is costly and dangerous."

After a quiet moment, Beatrice shrugs and nods her head. "Well, I'm afraid I have no choice. I must reach him. It's of dire importance. He's needed in Elyria."

The tall, thin merry man, the one called Alan, the one with the hawk-like face, seems to be the leader of the small group before her. Nodding his understanding, he makes a generous offer. Perhaps, if you tell us what is so important, we may be of service to you."

"Oh no. First, I must speak to Robin. It's a matter he may want kept confidential. Second, I couldn't ask you lot to do that."

"Nonsense!" Alan gestures to the group around him. "Any friend of Robin's is a friend of ours. We are bound to him. If would be our pleasure to help; whatever the matter is. If you're certain you want to take the risk, I will do what I can to see that you reach Robin safely."

“You have my gratitude.”

"Let us hope you have a little luck on your side as well. We're going to need it. Travel between realms is not possible without the help of a skilled practitioner of magic."

"You mean a witch." Beatrice declares with more than a noticeable hint of discomfort.

"Aye, that I do; and as you well know, a good one is hard to come by these days. Nottingham marches through, raping the land and imprisoning those who can't afford to pay his unfair taxes. Because of his own personal phobias, witches were forced into hiding. Now they are forced to practice in secret, not only here, but other places throughout the land."

Beatrice inhales deeply. "I'd rather not have to consort with witches, but if it is the only way…"

"That it is. In this land, they are the only ones who might possibly possess the ability to travel between worlds. They aren't all bad. I know a few good ones."

"You do?"

"Aye, that he does." A younger, raven-haired, man speaks up, laughing boldly. "He had to go and find his own personal coven after Robin tried to bed Her Majesty, the Queen."

Beatrice's mouth falls open, but before she can respond, Alan glowers and lightly thunks his comrade on the head with his wooden baton as he hisses. "Shut your trap, Tom! It ain't fittin' to talk that way in front of a lady."

Turning his attention back to Beatrice, Alan says plainly, "Now, don't go lettin' him upset you none. Sometimes people change. Mind you, I don't believe it happens often, but the so-called Evil Queen saved the life of Robin's little tyke. Saw it with me own eyes, I did. She stepped right in between him and a foul, loathsome flying abomination. She took that hideously wicked monkey right out of the sky. Rumor has it that, on a different occasion, she nearly gave up her own heart to keep little Roland safe. We've also heard that she's kept Robin out of harm's way more than once.

Shaking her head, Beatrice holds up her hands to temporarily halt the overflow of information. "Wait. Could you back up a moment, please?"

"Of course. Pardon me if I've overwhelmed you."

"Robin has a child?"

"Aye, that he does. Young Roland is a sweet-tempered, if somewhat precocious, lad."

"Well then, he must take after his father."

"Smart is a whip too, but Robin insists he got his noggin from his mama; God rest her. She is sorely missed by all the merry men."

"Oh…" Beatrice presses a hand to her chest as her heart breaks for her boy. "I heard he may have married, but I found no confirmation or disprove of that fact."

Alan nods. "Maid Marian was the best of us all. Couldn't find a sweeter soul, nor one that was tougher. Of course, she had to be to put up with this lot."

The one called Tom speaks up again, "Don't find too many true ladies that want to give up all the comforts of hearth and home for a tent in the woods with a bunch of roustabouts and misfits like us."

Beatrice chuckles softly. "I'm sure you don't. I do hope Robin is well."

"We have no reason to think otherwise. A couple of the residents of Storybrooke spend their time between there and the land of Oz. We haven't had any word for about ten or eleven months, but Dorothy – well, she went and fell in love with a right pretty wolf named Ruby. The last time Ruby came down our way, she did let us know that all was well in Storybrooke. Except, apparently young Roland was upset. It seems, He wanted to send us all something called ice cream, and Ruby had to tell him that she didn't think it would travel well, especially not between realms. As near as I could gather, it's a treat of some sort; one that melts. Although, I must confess, I have no idea how one turns ice into a cream."

Beatrice wrinkles her brow thoughtfully. "I'm afraid I have no idea. To the absolute best of my knowledge, if you freeze cream it does not retain its creamy state."

"Well…" Alan brings the conversation back around to its original topic. "I know just who we should contact, but I'm afraid it's a long day's journey from here to Nottingham. If you're determined to attempt travel between the realms you can ask Roland to explain the treat yourself, assuming we're successful in our travels. Will you do us the honor of spending the day with us, lady? We can set out before first light tomorrow."

With a slight smile, Beatrice nods agreeably. "Gentlemen, I'd be delighted."


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

She sleeps a great deal better than she expects. The merry men treat her as if she's akin to royalty, or at least, their version of it. Alan vacates his own tent, leaving it to her along with his warmest bedroll. A young blonde lad called Marcus offers use of his best fishing pole and then fresh boysenberries to complement her catch of the evening. Tom solidifies his place as the group's jester when he bows chivalrously and relinquishes the best tree stump in camp. When she asks how to distinguish it from the others, he simply flashes his roguish grin and asks, "You didn't get a splinter when you sat down; now did you?" The lively boys offer her the chance to partake of the finest mead they possess and talk late into the night by the glow of firelight, regaling her with tales of her boy and his many misadventures.

When the time for departure comes, she finds herself torn; half of her wanting to stay with his merry men, the other half desperate to go in search of their absent leader. As Alan had promised, they set out well before first light with freshly filled canteens and pieces of soft, fragrant, cheese wedged between two thick slices of bread that had been baked inside a makeshift brick oven. Alan bids the boys farewell with a promise to return to camp as quickly as possible with supplies and they, in turn, with hopes for a successful journey and news of Robin."

Approximately ninety minutes after sunrise, Beatrice inquires quietly. "Is there some reason we're taking all the roads less traveled by? Wouldn't our journey be quicker on the main road?"

"Indeed, it would, but alas, we don't live out in the wood for no reason at all. As you may have guessed by last night's storytelling session, many of us are wanted men and, unfortunately, I don't mean that in a flattering way. Add to that the fact that we're intent on seeing someone who would be marked for death if her calling were known, it's best we stay out of sight as much as possible."

"Very well then."

They walk all day afforded a break only when a lean, stoop-shouldered fellow with a full three days of stubble on his chin offers them a ride in the back of his hay-filled cart. Happy for the chance to rest tired legs and feet, they take their afternoon meal and dine on apples and berries. Before they leave the cart behind, Alan tucks a small leather purse half-filled with gold coins in the driver's hand and says a quiet thank-you for the kindness shown.

As the cart fades from view in the dust, Beatrice smiles. "It's not just altruistic drivel. You really do give to those less fortunate."

Alan shrugs. "Did you really think Robin would have it any other way?"

"No, not Robin, but by your own word, you haven't seen him for nearly two years. You still carry on as if he were right here with you."

"Alan thumps his own chest directly over his heart. "Aye, but he is."

She nods, falls silent, and they walk on.

* * *

Their journey continues until well after 10:00 P.M. when Beatrice raises a curious eyebrow as Alan leads her to, and knocks quietly upon, what is clearly the back door of a time-worn, but well cared for cottage that is nestled among an odd assortment of beautiful, fragrant, and in some cases, highly toxic flora. Moonflower, nightshade, and oleander abound from every possible corner of the small parcel of land surrounding the cottage.

Not quite sure who to expect, Beatrice is relieved to find a candle burning in the window of the darkened house. She is also half-surprised and half-comforted when an unusually tall old woman with piercing blue eyes that possess a brightness uncharacteristic for someone of her obvious age, peeks through lace curtains before she opens the door just a crack. Dressed in an emerald green satin caftan that hangs loosely from shoulder to bare foot, her mouth is set in a grim line of unmistakable annoyance until she sees Alan, at which point, she tosses her thick vibrantly red and silver braid over her shoulder, letting it fall down the length of her spine.

"You're here later than I expected, Alan." She beckons to them quietly, opening the door only wide enough for them to slide through. "Don't just stand there on the stoop my good man. You may as well come in before someone sees you and your traveling companion."

Alan must duck to step through the door of the tiny cottage. No sooner than they are inside, he closes the back door and secures the heavy lock comprised of hinged wood and steel behind them, while Beatrice finds herself standing in an unfamiliar but tidy kitchen. Less than five feet away a rug is rolled back where a trapdoor leading down to a root cellar stands open and waiting for entry.

"Alan help yourself to the ale, dear. You know where it is. I made tea for your friend, and there's a nice hot stew in the fireplace kettle. I'm afraid I must hurry now. Forgive me, but I must move quickly before my time is up."

Puzzled, Beatrice inquires, "You knew we were coming?"

"But of course, Beatrice, and I know why you've come."

When she shoots Alan a mildly startled look, he makes a less than formal attempt at introduction. Beatrice, this is my friend Aradia Crowley, daughter of the Moon Goddess Selene."

Aradia chuckles quietly. "Leave it to Alan. He would only tell you the good half of the story. I'm also the daughter of Abraham, the dark priest."

Beatrice's eyes go wide. "Your mother was a goddess and your father, an unholy man?"

Aradia nods. "My mother was temporarily disempowered by her attraction to him."

"Temporarily?"

"Yes, her godly powers were fully restored upon his death."

Disquieted, Beatrice starts slowly, "Forgive me for being curious. Did she kill him to reacquire her powers?"

"No. I did. So that she might - among other reasons." Aradia shrugs and then chuckles softly because she has no need to turn and peer over her shoulder to see the look of unmistakable alarm that Beatrice shoots Alan.

"Relax, good lady. No harm will come to you here. You have my word. Besides, what's a little patricide betwixt a father and his daughter?"

"Alan led me to believe you were a good witch." Beatrice stammers uncomfortably.

Aradia shrugs. "There is no good without evil. There is no evil without good. No pleasure without pain. There would be no night without day." The old mage pulls out a chair at her small table for the fairer of her guests. "Sit. Make yourself comfortable, dear. Alan will serve you a bowl of stew. He's familiar with my kitchen. I shall be with you shortly." Without another word, she descends into the root cellar and out of sight.

By the time Aradia returns, two long minutes later, Alan is already four bites into his own bowl of stew with a half pint of ale down his gullet; and having decided that it must be safe, Beatrice samples a few bites tentatively and finds the meal to be, not only fragrant, but hearty as well.

Before approaching the table, their hostess lowers the door to the root cellar, unrolls the rug, hiding its trapdoor from view, before she takes a black satin cloak from its peg beside the back door; obviously preparing to leave.

"I've made the bed in the guest room for you, dear." She says to Beatrice as she dons her cloak. "Alan will take my room. He will show you the way up when you're ready to retire for the evening." She removes a glass vial suspended from a leather strap around her neck and carefully places it around Alan's; stealing a quick peck of a kiss before warning him, "If you get caught with this, Nottingham will light my funeral pyre before my heart stops beating."

He pats her aged hand, squeezing it gently as she holds the vial that contains a single luminescent bean between thumb and forefinger. "Aye, woman, relax. I wasn't born bloody yesterday. If the blaggard catches me, he'll never know it came from you. I'd sooner sell my soul."

"Lock up when you leave tomorrow, lover." She pats his chest affectionately, lifts her hood, and hurries out the door into the moonlight on silent feet without another word.

Captivated by the absurdity of their circumstances, Beatrice eyes the man sitting opposite her at the table. In the warm glow of candlelight, he looks no more than forty-five; maybe a young fifty. Curious, but not at all puzzled, she smiles.

Aware that he's the object of idle speculation, he raises an eyebrow as he tries not to slurp from his spoon.

Shaking her head, Beatrice shrugs. "Not really any of my business, but you do know she's old enough to be your mum?"

Alan leans back in his chair, laughing boldly and stomping his big booted foot against the wooden floor planks before clearing his throat. "For the record, you're old enough to be me mum. She's old enough to be your great-grandmother a few times over. And no, I don't mind in the least."

* * *

Beatrice yawns behind her coffee mug. The dark brew is hot and stout and more than welcome as the first rays of dawn appear in the eastern facing window over the basin with its old hand pump. Seated once again in the unfamiliar but warm and tidy kitchen, she quietly observes as Alan prepares breakfast for the two of them.

He's an average size man, not too big, not too small, but here in this tiny cottage he becomes imposing. Much like the woman who resides here. But then again, Beatrice suspects Aradia Crowley cuts an imposing figure no matter what her surroundings might be."

Without turning away from the task at hand, Alan whisks eggs aggressively before kneeling in front of the fireplace and pouring the mixture into a hot iron skillet. "What's troubling you, lady?"

She shakes her head. "I'm just waiting for the fog that comes with sleep to leave me."

"Is that really all there is to it?"

She chuckles softly and sips her coffee; using the moment to collect her thoughts and choose her words. "Has your friend, Aradia, offered to share her gift of second sight with you?"

Alan turns and studies her for a moment. "While it is true that she does possess a certain talent for seeing into the unknown, I'm not certain just how much of it is truly second sight, and how much of it is curiosity run amok."

"Meaning, what exactly?"

"Some would call it nosy. Aradia calls it curiosity - to a fault."

"Don't tell me she uses her – abilities - to spy on people."

"Not the godly ones, no. She would consider that an unfair advantage – bad form. But at least one lifetime ago, maybe two, she was cursed to spend the hours between midnight and dawn confined to the night sky. Since meeting her, she has pointed out more than once that ours is an awfully big sky, and there are a great number of things to behold from that awfully big sky. Therefore, I cannot say with any real certainty whether she foresaw our arrival here last night courtesy of her gift or her curse." He shrugs as he turns sausages in the same large skillet with the eggs. It's quite possible she could have simply sought some entertainment and chose to look down on us from her heavenly perch the night before last."

"She watches over you?"

"Aradia watches over any number of people. I tell her she should stop for her own peace of mind. If she sees anything alarming, it's torture for her. Especially when she can't do anything about it until she is released at dawn. But she watches anyway."

"Why was she cursed?"

"She won't say. My guess is it's either something she deeply regrets - or it's something she doesn't regret in the least."

"Well, that will cover a multitude of both, sins and righteous acts."

"And she is capable of both; as are we all."

"Still, her routine banishment from terra firma – well, I assume it can put a crimp in the romance."

Alan tilts his head to the side, thinking her unasked question over before he shrugs. "Only, if we let it. Moonlight is no more a prerequisite for romance than proximity is."

"No, I suppose not, but neither one hurts."

He points the business end of a wooden spoon her way and nods with a wide smile. "Touché."

She squints, aware of the fact that there's something out of place about him, and it's not the first time she's had the thought.

He raises an inviting eyebrow before returning to his kitchen duty.

"Forgive me, but you don't sound like you've been denied the advantages of a good education."

He shrugs the implied but unintended barb aside. "What you really mean is; an education that's been well paid for. Not every so-called forest dwelling miscreant out there in that wood was born to the hardscrabble life. Many of them were. Some of us had better. Regardless of circumstance, each of us realized that the social and financial imbalance between the two existences isn't always self-induced or caused by things within our control. If a man strives to do what is right and good; if he works hard and takes responsibility for himself and his family, he ought to have something to show for it, be he master or be he servant."

He sneers. "Our dear sheriff is a self-congratulatory mean-spirited petty excuse for a man. His overseers are tyrants that grow fat and unduly wealthy on the backs of fine but simple folk who worry where their children's next meal will come from. Since the death of King Richard, he has been left to revel in his greed unchecked by the new reigning head, who is either unaware of the problems in their own kingdom or simply doesn't care. It's detestable! I do what I can to alleviate some of the disparity between the classes."

"And, I'm not saying you're wrong, but if the reigning head ever hears you talking like that, you'll surely be hanged for treason."

Alan shrugs. "Better to die standing in the service of something greater than yourself, than to live only for yourself."

Beatrice nods. "Will you at least allow me to finish breakfast preparations for you? You are going to an awful lot of trouble on my behalf. I'd like to at least feel useful."

"If we were back at camp, I would gladly accept the offer but I'm afraid Aradia has a rather complex organizational system in place that – well, quite honestly, it baffles me. I can't for the life of me understand it. But it all seems to make perfectly good sense to her. She's got all the usual spices one would expect to find in a woman's well-stocked cupboard. She's also got potion ingredients up here in the same cupboard. It would be a dreadful shame if, for example, you were to reach in there in search of Billings root and come out with powdered bat wings or snake eyes or what have you."

Beatrice gently clears her throat to keep coffee from going down the wrong way. "Billings root can be used in food preparation but it's a rather pungent spice. One I wouldn't commonly use for breakfast preparation unless you're adding a medicinal tea to the meal."

"True but I believe it can also be used in potions or to enact spells. Though, why she keeps it up here, whilst other ingredients are hidden away in less likely places, I can't begin to fathom."

"Very well then, you can finish making breakfast on your own. I'd like my eggs without the side of eye of newt, please."

He chuckles as he sets a plate piled high with eggs, sausage, fried potatoes, sliced melon and buttered toast on the table in front of her before taking his own seat.

Picking up her fork and dropping a napkin into her lap, she queries, "Good heavens, this is an awful lot of food. Are we going on another day's hike?"

Alan shrugs genially. "Not if all goes well. However, if things don't go well, goodness knows where we'll end up or when we'll have the opportunity to eat next. Don't rush through the meal, but don't linger either. Nottingham fancies himself a bit of the lady's man; a lady's man who likes his drink. I've heard tale that he scarcely rises before eleven, especially not at the start of a new week, and that his brute squad never does before nine. Still, we'll have to find a secluded place out in the wood to open the portal. I'd just as soon do it, before they rise feeling surly, hungover, and out to punish innocent people for their own foolhardiness."

"Right then. First, we eat, then you pack up your gear while I clean the kitchen. The woman was nice enough to invite me into her home and provide me with warm food and an equally warm bed. I'm not about to leave her house any less immaculate than I found it."

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, after having their fill, tidying up, and securing all the locks, Beatrice once again, finds herself in the forest with the early morning sunlight filtering through the thick canopy of leaves and vines as she listens closely to Alan's precise wording.

"No, Aradia doesn't have to go with us."

Beatrice points to the bean still encapsulated on the strap around his neck as he reaches for it. "You don't have to be magical to make that thing work?" She asks quietly.

"No." Alan whispers. "The bean is magic enough. All that is required is that you believe at your core that it will work. From all I've seen, people who don't believe in magic, or people who look down their noses at it, can't practice it; at least not safely. It's not something you want to do with half a heart. If you're not absolutely certain you want to do this, we shouldn't. It's an all or nothing kind of thing."

She nods thoughtfully. "Anything else I should know?"

"Aye, you should focus intently on where you want to go. Even though we don't know Robin's precise location at this moment, it's a good idea to think that you want to go to his precise location. It is vitally important that you focus on getting to wherever he actually is. I've had a little experience with these things. If you only focus on him in the most general of senses, we can be led astray. Try not to step through thinking simply 'Robin.' Do that and it is highly likely that we will wind up at his christening or maybe just one of his favorite places. It could even be just some place he likes to daydream about. We don't have any guarantee that he will be standing there before us waiting to welcome us with open arms the moment that we arrive."

Alan nods encouragement as he breaks the capsule open and places his free hand in hers. "Hold tight and don't let go. We don't want to get separated. Beyond that, relax, just breathe and don't fight against the pull. Go with it - and try to be prepared for anything. Just because we're opening this portal in the middle of a secluded patch of wood doesn't mean that we will step through into the same. It is quite possible to literally walk into the middle of anything."

Beatrice nods with determination.

"It's rather obvious at times that you have your doubts. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"I have to do this. It isn't that I doubt magic is real. I know it's real. I'm just not sure it's ever really a good thing."

"People talk about dark magic and light magic as if there is some profound difference between the two. Both practices can be dangerous. Both can be helpful. I've seen examples of both. Ask me, I say, magic is neither good nor bad. It just is. It's what people choose to do with it that is good or bad. It's the intent with which it is wielded that counts."

She nods again and inhales deeply, squaring her shoulders as she tries not to feel like she's about to embark on a journey while blindfolded without a guide. Instead, she concentrates on the feel of his big calloused hand held tightly in hers. "Well, go on then," Beatrice encourages. "Give it a toss – or whatever you're supposed to do. There's no point standing around here watching the grass grow."

Chuckling softly in response to her pluck, Alan brings the bean to his lips and blows on it gently like a gambler striking a tantalizing deal with lady luck before the die is cast.

She expects the bean to fall gently to the ground and become lost as it tumbles and rolls among the leaves and grass. Instead, the glimmering iridescent white bean disappears in midair, the instant before a ring of fire forms around the outer edges of what appears to be a reflecting pool or a looking glass with a translucent yet hazy image visible from the other side.

Alan shortens his stride, accommodating hers, and as they step through together she expects the sensation of falling but instead feels as if she's sliding, careening haphazardly toward an unknown place in time without the benefit of breaks.

"He said to relax. He said to breathe." She admonishes herself silently. Trying hard to focus on Robin's precise, yet unknown location, she thinks of arrows that don't miss, of merry men, and of precious gold pieces stashed away in hidden leather pouches, She thinks of Alan casting his magical die, and of a sandy-haired little boy with a wide ready grin who had an intense fondness for nut pies and would always steal a slice even before the pie had proper time to set, if he thought she wasn't looking; only to be given away by the evidence of his crime left smeared on his face.

Smiling one moment, and shoved roughly out of harm's way the next, she topples onto a surface as hard as cobblestone but smoother. Looking around, dazed and confused, she sees something moving fast. Something she can't identify. She hears a loud angry sound that is equally impossible for her to identify but reasons that it must be some sort of warning as Alan rises slowly to his feet and offers her a hand.

"Begging your pardon for the rough treatment. Ms. Beatrice. I'm afraid I thought surely Red was having me on a bit when she mentioned those blasted mechanized carriages. Apparently not. It looks as though we've had the misfortune to arrive directly in the path of one."

Rising tentatively to her feet, she inspects a nasty looking scrape on the palm of her left hand. She doesn't exactly remember doing it, but she must have used it to break her fall. Beneath her skirts, her knees don't feel any better, but the tingling ache barely registers as she looks around taking in the sights available for her immediate inspection.

She doesn't know whether to be excited or frightened by all the strange unknown things that await her, but she hardly has time to think on it. The mechanized carriage Alan mentioned travels on a flat hard surface she has never encountered before. She eyes a traffic light without any comprehension of its purpose, and on the other side of the strange carriage's traveling path, there is a building with a decorative glass front.

Inside, tables are visible and seated at one of those tables there are two dark-haired boys. One is obviously well into adolescence while the other is considerably younger. However, there is something plainly familiar about the smaller boy's wide ready smile and the sticky mess visible on the lower portion of his face.

As both boys stare out the window at her with startled, blatantly curious eyes, she sees an undeniable flash of recognition in the small boys eyes and in the next instant he abandons his table, and even the building at a joyous pace; leaving his companion to trot after him, calling loudly, "Hey, wait a minute, Ro! Slow down little guy! What's up?"

However, Beatrice knows from experience that the boy's ears can't hear a single word of the protest said to him as he bellows happily, "Alan!" and, without a single thought of danger, hurls himself into the ready arms of the man at her side.

Scooping him up, and bouncing him slightly, her escort declares, "Knock me over with a feather, lad. You finally got bigger!"

The boy giggles happily. "You got skinnier, Alan!"

"Well, of course, I did. What did you expect, I still can't cook quite as good as your papa.”

Catching up with his runaway friend, the older boy smiles curiously and starts tentatively, "Um, excuse me, sir…"

"It's okay, Henry. This is Alan. He's one of the merry men from Sherwood." The small boy shrugs and announces honestly. "But I've never seen the lady before." The instant before he eagerly holds out a small hand and says with enthusiasm, "Hi, I'm Roland and this is my brother, Henry. Welcome to Storybrooke!"

"Hello Roland, my name is Beatrice and it's a fine pleasure to meet you."

Henry relaxes slightly. "Boy, things are never boring around here. Even so, portals don't usually open up right in the middle of Main Street."

Mildly chagrined, Beatrice presses her lips together and raises an eyebrow. "I'm afraid that may have been my fault. Alan told me to focus on where I wanted to go. He told me to focus specifically on who I wanted to find and, without meaning to, I thought of Robin as a boy and landed us both right here, looking at him through that window. I'm guessing, I've found someone in possession of the right surname but the next generation."

Henry smiles and politely offers, "Portal jumping is like that. It never quite takes you where you intend to go, but it always takes you where you need to be; even if that's not always immediately understood."

"Does that mean you can direct us to Robin of Locksley?"

"Sure can. This time of the afternoon, if Robin's not at the Lucky Feather getting the place ready for the after-dinner rush, you can usually find him hanging out in the mayor's office; trying to entice her to lock up early and go home."

Both Alan and Beatrice squint, asking in unison, "Robin has taken to loitering around - the mayor's office?" and then Beatrice follows it up with, "Wait, what exactly is a mayor, if I may ask, please?"

Henry chuckles. "It's okay. In this world, a mayor is a town or city's elected official. It's their job to watch over the town, and its residents; keep everything running smoothly."

"I see, and here, women can hold the positions of elected officials?"

Henry nods proudly. "I know it's not this way everywhere, but here, women can do anything. My mom is pretty much unstoppable."

"Your mum?"

"Sure, did I forget to mention that the mayor is my mom… Well one of them anyway. I have two moms. The other one is the sheriff."

Alan squints again and Beatrice chuckles in uncertainty. "And, this time of day, Robin can usually be found trying to convince your mother, the mayor, to lock up and go home early?"

Alan raises a doubtful eyebrow. "The Robin I remember – well, let's just say he didn't typically exhibit a deep and abiding affinity for people in positions of power. Why should he concern himself with what time the mayor's office closes? What's his angle?"

Henry shakes his head in response to the misunderstanding. "He's just trying to keep her from working too hard; that's all."

Alan's doubtful eyebrow raises another fraction of an inch, "And why would he do that?"

It's five-year-old Roland who answers. "Because, Alan, they're gonna have a baby and she's a girl, and she's gonna be my sister. Daddy says so. I'm a big brother now – or I will be pretty soon." He shrugs comically. "I don't think she can stay in there for much longer, cuz I don't think Regina's belly can get very much bigger!"

Alan lifts his face to the sky and laughs loudly and freely. "Well, lead the way lads. Apparently, we have got some catching up to do."


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

**Storybrooke, Maine**

Henry knocks softly upon the door with the frosted glass pane and his mother answers from the other side sounding distracted. "Yes, come in, please."

He opens the door wide enough to peek in and finds her behind her desk struggling under the weight of late pregnancy to rise from her chair with the phone braced between her left ear and shoulder.

Despite her predicament, Regina motions for him, and those with him, to come in as she moves the phone from her left ear to her right and silently mouths, "Just one moment."

Henry nods while Roland smiles patiently from the arms of a vaguely familiar man, while the lone woman with them eyes her with undeniable curiosity.

Offering a perfunctory smile for her benefit, Regina says coolly into the phone, "Emma slow down. I'm on my way."

She waits.

Emma, slow dow…"

Resigning herself to the fact that the call is going to take longer than she likes, Regina nods to the adults with her two smiling boys and dutifully waves to the two empty guest chairs on the opposite side of her desk as propriety commands her to do.

While they take the offered seats, Alan and Beatrice appraise their surroundings, taking in the general splendor of Regina's tri-tone office; black and white with fine touches of silver visible from nearly every surface, including not only the marble floor but also the elegantly upholstered furnishings.

Already at home in the office, Henry turns his attention to the faint and distorted voice on the other end of the phone line. Even though not every word is discernible, he can hear his birth mom talking excitedly.

Regina tries again, "Emma… Emma… Em… Oh, for goodness sake! Ms. Swan!" she interrupts quietly but with a touch of ice in her voice.

There is a moment's hesitation before Henry can hear Emma come up for air and inquire peevishly, "What!"

"Well, that's better. Now that I have your attention, will you please calm yourself. Stop acting as if this is your first day as the savior. This is not the first time a portal has ever opened up unexpectedly in this town. We've both been through this before."

Regina listens.

"Two people? Right in the middle of Main Street? Well, Emma, I hardly think they made a conscious choice to enter Storybrooke in that precise location. I'm pretty sure I'm looking at the pair of them now; give me just a moment…" Regina sighs. "Yes, the boys are here. They both appear to be fine. Give me a moment…" Regina lowers the phone to her shoulder as Emma continues to talk, and offers to shake hands, first with Alan and then with Beatrice who both quietly introduce themselves in turn "Alan of Sherwood and the House of Barrows and Beatrice Atherton."

"I'm Mayor, Regina Mills." She says just as quietly as some half-forgotten memory slowly begins to stir in the darkest recesses of her subconscious mind. "I take it, you are our newcomers?"

Alan nods as Regina returns the phone's handset to her ear. "Aye, that we are, and we apologize for any confusion we have caused, Mayor Mills - or is it - Your Majesty?"

Regina nods as she waits for Emma to take a breath. "Either will suffice. Have we met?" She asks still using a hushed voice as she watches the pair of them stare in confusion at the telephone receiver in her hand.

"Yes, ma'am." Alan clarifies. "You and I have. Two years ago. I am one of Robin Hood's Merry Men."

"Oh, yes, of course. Sherwood in route to the Enchanted Forest - or was it the other way around?" She asks quietly.

Alan shrugs. "One way or the other, Majesty."

She holds up a finger. Silently signaling for a moment's patience, she says into the phone. "No, they don't appear to be seriously injured." Just to be certain, she turns her attention to her eldest child. "Henry, any idea who nearly ran them down. Please tell me it wasn't your Aunt Zelena."

Henry chuckles quietly as he shakes his head. "No Ma'am, if it had been, something tells me they'd be in a lot worse shape. It wasn't her. I would've recognized that ugly green thing she drives. It was a small silver hatchback."

Regina pauses yet again to listen to Emma through the phone. Noting her guests' curiosity, she points to the telephone handset with her free hand and gives Henry a meaningful look before gesturing to the adults in the room.

Catching on, Henry nods and explains quietly for the benefit of the out-of-town travelers, "It's called a telephone. It lets people in different locations talk to each other."

"Alright," Regina says into the phone. "I'm glad she's okay. Yes, tell her that neither one of them was seriously injured…" Regina looks at her guests inquiringly and waits for them to both shake their heads before she says her goodbyes and hangs up the phone after assuring Emma one last time that all is apparently well and that she will see to their new guests.

Still eyeing Regina with blatant curiosity, Beatrice declares apologetically, "It would seem as though we've caused quite the commotion."

"Don't worry about it." Regina waves the comment aside. "I'm quite certain neither of you intended to arrive in the path of a moving automobile. Portal jumping is unpredictable at best. All that matters is that no one was seriously injured and that includes Ashley Boyd and her little one."

Alan squints thoughtfully, "Ashley Boyd?"

"Yes, that is her identity here in Storybrooke. In our realm, she is better known as Cinderella. She's married to Prince Thomas. She was the driver of the vehicle that nearly hit you. Other than being given the surprise of her life, both she and her young daughter are fine; completely unharmed."

"Thank the gods." Beatrice breathes quietly.

"You're quite sure that neither of you is injured?"

"A few minor scrapes and bruises." Beatrice holds up her left hand, putting her wounded palm on display. "Nothing to warrant serious concern."

"May I?" Regina reaches for her hand and waits for her to offer hesitant consent before inspecting the wound more closely. "Nothing life threatening but still, that's a bit more than just a scratch." She places one of her own hands beneath Beatrice's while the other hovers directly over it. A breath away from healing the injury, she thinks better of it. "I'd like to be able to heal it for you, but at present, I think ordinary antiseptic and a bandage might be best. I'm afraid that late in the final trimester of pregnancy a mage's magical abilities can sometimes go a bit sideways. Just this morning, I intended to snap my fingers as I scolded Roland's dog. He was about to put his paws on my kitchen countertop in search of an abandoned piece of toast. Unfortunately, in addition to snapping my fingers, I also unintentionally blew up the toaster oven."

Having absolutely no idea what a toaster oven is, Beatrice still slowly withdraws her hand with a polite, "That's quite all right." As Roland giggles and informs the visitors. "Now, Big John won't come out of his doghouse!"

Regina offers him a repentant smile as she opens a desk drawer and removes a small packet of pre-moistened towelettes. "I know. I'm sorry, sweetheart. I tried to make it up to him. I even offered him the piece of toast he was after, but he wouldn't take it. I'm afraid I spooked him pretty badly when the toaster oven exploded." Without commenting on the fact that his face is smeared with leftover ice cream, Regina steps around the desk and gently cleans the small boy's face and inspects his hands

"That's okay, Regina. You didn't hurt him. He's just a big ole giant frady-cat but he loves you. He'll forgive you as soon as he wants you to rub his ears. Besides, it was kind of funny!"

Both Alan and Regina squint incredulously and ask in tandem with one another, "It was?"

Roland nods, his dark eyes going wide. "Daddy was the only person who didn't duck. He just put down his coffee cup and used the fire extinguisher he keeps under the sink. He put out the fire and then he grabbed the big oven gloves and…"

Roland collapses in a fit of giggles; laughing too hard to carry the conversation any further.

Henry finishes. "Me, Roland, the dog, even mom; we all jumped half out of our skin. Not Robin. He was Mr. Cool-as-a-cucumber. He just sat down his coffee cup, calmly walked over, put out the fire and then he stepped over to her and put the oven mitts on mom's hands like they would somehow provide some sort of insulation or barrier; somehow prevent her from blowing things up, then he very slowly lowered her hands to her sides…" Henry pauses to imitate Robin, "Let's not point at anything else for a while, mi'lady."

Alan chuckles softly. "Robin always has been rather cool under pressure."

Regina nods in agreement as she smiles patiently and comments, "Roland, honey, your hands look like you've been making mud pies again."

The small boy shakes his head adamantly. "Not today, Regina."

"Well, just the same, hop down and visit the washroom, please. Your hands need more attention than a wet-nap will provide."

"Okay."

Roland slides out of Alan's lap as Regina eyes Henry. "Go with him, please. Don't let him touch anything before he's washed."

Henry nods dutifully and as the two boys disappear into her private washroom, Regina calls after them, "Use soap, please." Aware all the while that she's being discreetly but keenly studied by the woman immediately to her right.

Quite certain she's never met Beatrice Atherton; some elusive fact still continues to hover just out of range. Setting mild discomfort aside, Regina returns to stand in her former place on the other side of her desk. "Well, you've both traveled a great distance. I'm assuming you would like to see Robin."

Alan nods agreeably. "Aye, that we would." He smiles while Beatrice offers up a quiet but adamant, "Yes, please!"

Nodding, Regina activates the speaker in her office phone and selects the second speed dial option stored in the phone's memory. Her guests stare in fascination as the phone on the other end of the line begins to ring.

When a voice other than the one she was hoping for answers with, "It's a glorious day here at the Lucky Feather, Regina smiles apologetically. "Hi, Little John. Is Robin around?"

"Afraid not, Madame Mayor, but he should be knocking at your door any second now. He left about fifteen minutes ago, on his way to you. Said he was going to step out and take you and the wee lass something to nibble on."

Regina nods. "Thanks, John." About to hang up, she catches the light in Alan's eyes and tacks on an afterthought, "You may want to lock up for a bit and head this way yourself. An old friend of yours is in town."

The big man on the other end of the line chuckles and declares easily. "Well now, the only friends I'm missing would have to travel a terribly long way to get here – so, I guess I'm on me way."

Both of her visitors are mildly startled and stare curiously when the line goes dead, emitting the unfamiliar sound of a dial tone.

She returns the handset to the cradle as the boys return from the washroom with young Roland eagerly holding his small hands out for Regina's inspection.

Turning his hands palm up and inspecting them closely, she smiles. "Now, that's more like it." She straightens his collar and declares. "Now you don't look quite so unkept." She places her hands under his arms, intending to lift him off the floor only to have him back away suddenly.

"No, Regina."

She raises an eyebrow, more than mildly perplexed by his strange and unexpected behavior and still feeling, for some reason, as if she's being evaluated by her female guest. "I beg your pardon, young sir?"

"No Regina." He repeats and shakes his head earnestly. "Daddy said you shouldn't pick me up anymore. It's not good for you and the baby. What if I'm too heavy? I don't want to hurt you."

Regina scowls with annoyance and then quickly softens her expression when Roland looks worried. "It's okay, sweet boy. Come here. Give me your hand." She says softly and reaches out to keep him steady as he climbs up to stand in the seat of her chair so that he's almost eye level with her.

She gives it a moment's thought and whispers conspiratorially, "Your daddy is probably right. It's probably time for me to stop picking you up. At least for a little while. Is that going to be okay with you?"

Roland nods emphatically and Regina smiles and runs her fingers affectionately through his curls as she hugs him tightly.

"You know, I remember just a few months ago, you weren't even sure you wanted a little sister, now you're looking after me almost as good as your daddy does."

Roland smiles brightly, obviously pleased by the comment. "You can still read to me at night, right? That won't hurt nobody, will it?"

"Well of course not. That won't hurt a soul. Actually, I bet story time will be good for both of you now."

Roland lays a hesitant, tender hand against Regina's belly. "It's good for both of us?"

Regina nods as she gently moves his hand to a place directly over a tiny fluttering sensation. "It's helping you learn to read, and the doctor says that her ears have started to work by now. That means that she can hear our voices, even if she doesn't understand what we're saying. We should talk to her and read to her so that when she gets here she will recognize our voices and feel safe with us."

"I can read to her?"

Regina nods.

Roland frowns, suddenly worried. "You have to help with the big words, okay Regina. I don't want to tell her wrong."

"Don't worry, Roland. We'll do it together."

"And get Daddy to help, because he does all the silly voices best?"

Regina chuckles. "He certainly does. He makes quite an orator; doesn't he?"

Roland wrinkles his nose. "I don't know what that word means."

"Orator?"

"Yep, that one."

"One who speaks… Usually professionally, or sometimes in an entertaining manner in the course of telling tales."

"Oh, okay. Yes. Daddy's really good at that." He giggles suddenly. "Hey! She kicked me!"

With a look that's equal parts smile and grimace, Regina exhales noisily. "Yes, I know. She kicked me too!" She rubs the side of her belly until she recognizes the faint, nearly silent, sound of familiar footsteps in the hall and takes the boy by the hand once more. "Hop down," She says, guiding his feet gently to the floor once again. "Go open the door. Let your dad in."

Smiling curiously, Roland hurries to the door and peeks out expectantly only to turn back and demand, "It is Daddy! How did you know, Regina?"

"I don't always hear him. He can still sneak up on me occasionally, but when I do hear him … I know it's him."

"He's bringing you food, too," Roland reports from his post at the door.

Robin chuckles and pats his son's head affectionately as he steps through the door with a takeout container in his hand. "Well, of course, I am. I bet you she's hungry, and even if she isn't, your sister is."

He's obviously on his way to Regina until the sight of the newcomers registers in his mind. Momentarily stalled as if he's been caught unaware and stubbed his toe on some unseen object in the dark, Robin stands perfectly still with his mouth slightly open until it stretches into a wide grin.

Henry reaches out and takes the forgotten container of food from Robin's hand as he thumps Alan on the back with brotherly affection while on his way to Beatrice.

Regina watches quietly in utter fascination as her husband wraps the woman in a fierce embrace and nearly lifts her feet off the floor as her soft laughter momentarily catches in her throat, thick with emotion, and radiant tears gather to moisten the corners of his blue eyes as he breathes out softly, hopefully, "Trix?"

She pulls back gently, not leaving his arms, and touches his face with maternal affection. "Hello, Boy."

As they reunite, after more than twenty years apart, the penny finally drops, and Regina closes her eyes and holds down the groan she feels rising in her throat as she mentally cringes; thinking back to a conversation she and Robin had more than eleven months ago. "Beatrice Atherton … Trix … The woman who raised him. His mother… In every way that matters … I'll bet she's had an earful about me already. And here I stand blithely talking about blowing up kitchen appliances all because her grandson's dog tried to steal a piece of toast!"

* * *

On the brief walk from the town hall to home Robin escorts Alan, Henry, Roland and Little John half the distance to the merry men's camp before parting ways so that Alan might visit with men who have remained his brothers despite time and distance.

Left alone in the company of two of his favorite women, by the time Robin does make it home, he finds himself in possession of more than just a touch of concern. Things aren't going nearly as well as he might have hoped between the pair. Beatrice, normally warm and relaxed, is quiet and reserved while Regina has retreated to hide behind the old familiar and - in this case - safe mask of cool propriety and majestic grace. This won't do. He can't bear to watch the two of them treat each other with such excruciating politeness. It's making his teeth hurt! So much so that in his efforts to alleviate the unbearable pressure, he winds up sounding as bad as the two of them.

"Here, sit. Make yourself comfortable." He offers his favorite chair as he watches his only parent turn a slow circle in the great room of his home.

Moving slowly as she turns about, looking this way and that, Beatrice accepts his offer without direct comment or eye contact. Momentarily transfixed, she admires the natural splendor of the place. "Good heavens, boy! From out there among the trees, it just looks like an eight-sided barn of grand proportions. I mean, with all the windows, hardwood and stone it's pretty. If pretty is even a word one can use in reference to a colossal old barn, but out there it looks, rather deceptively, like what it is. I never expected the inside to be so … so breathtaking. It's magnificent. It's elegant. It's …" She looks around, in awe of the delicate balance on display. Nature's simple beauty mixed and mingled with touches of finery and comfort that one can't help but associate with royalty, to achieve an unmistakably regal symbiosis between the ordinary wonders of earth and the indulgences of a privileged life. "It's a …" She starts and stops yet again, knowing she will fail to choose adequate words. "It's a beautiful home."

"We're rather fond of it ourselves," Robin says anxiously. "Do you want anything to eat? Or drink?"

No, no, don't trouble yourself. Alan fed me an enormous breakfast just a short while ago."

Not quite sure what to do with himself, Robin offers, "Some tea then. Maybe?"

"Well, yes, a bit of tea would be nice." She says, realizing he's at odds with himself and hoping a routine task will steady him."

"I'll go. You two sit, visit." Regina volunteers: silently eager for a legitimate excuse to leave the room. "It won't take but a few minutes."

Shaking his head, Robin places his hands on his wife's shoulders and gently steers her toward the nearest empty seat. "I'll get the tea. You sit, rest, get acquainted."

He's gone before Regina can think of an appropriately polite objection. So, she sits, and plasters on the obligatory smile she once used for members of the court, parliament, and visiting royals. In turn, Beatrice offers her own perfunctory smile, each of them aware that they are about to embark on one of those tediously polite conversations that complete strangers have when they suddenly find themselves to be family.

Beatrice initiates with, "He seems just a tad out of sorts."

"He'll be fine in a few minutes when he gets his bearings back. It's been a long while since you saw each other last. Your arrival is not one he anticipated, but it's one he welcomes."

"He speaks of me, then?

Regina nods. "With warmth and affection."

"This place truly is captivating. It's not at all what I expected it to be, and yet it's exactly what it should be. It's quite obviously the home of two distinctly different yet intrinsically similar individuals."

Thank you, Ms. Atherton. Though, it's actually home to five people."

"Well, yes, of course, the boys - and the fifth person?"

"My father, Henry."

"That would be King Henry of Covarachia?"

"Yes, that's correct."

"And the family name is… Mills." She squints, fairly certain that isn't correct.

"No, the family Covarrubia resided at Mourning Dale palace. It was decided long before I was born that any children who came about as a result of the marriage would carry my mother's maiden name."

"That's…"

"I believe the word you're searching for is… atypical?"

"Quite."

"Yes, well, my mother was quite the atypical woman."

"She's passed on, then?"

Regina nods and judiciously refrains from adding that, even in death, her mother is still rather atypical. It's probably best not to have that conversation too early in the relationship.

"You have my condolences. It's a difficult thing to lose a mother."

"She's never too far away."

And will her granddaughter carry her name."

"Robin and I have other plans for her." Regina rests a protective hand against the well-rounded swell of her abdomen.

Alone in the kitchen, as he quickly sets the tea kettle on the stove, Robin listens to them talk courtesy of the kitchen's intercom system. When they fall silent, he cringes and acts fast. Not waiting for the tea, he hastily prepares a reason to intervene. As awful as the forced polite chitchat is, silence is worse.

He can picture Beatrice's smile. "You must be due any moment now."

He can also clearly envision the slight, almost imperceptible, narrowing of his wife's eyes as she silently wonders if his mother just offered a well-delivered insult regarding the overly healthy state of her blessed condition before the cultured monarch responds coolly, nearly indifferently, "She still has a few weeks to go."

"You're certain she's a girl?"

"I am."

Before Beatrice can question this, Robin snaps off the intercom and steps back into the room carrying a tray laid with soft cheeses and crackers. "Trix, you should see the maternal side of Regina's family tree. Not one male born into the family for at least, what is it, love? Six or seven generations? They have nothing but beautiful girls … and lots of them. He winks and hands her a saucer before settling himself on the arm of Regina's chair and dropping an arm around her shoulders.

Regina shoots him a curious look before explaining, "I don't know exactly how far back that particular phenomenon goes, but there are seven generations recorded on that parchment that belonged to Mother."

"And where is it? I thought you said a while back that Snow was having it framed."

As propriety and good breeding demand, Regina manages not to roll her eyes, but she can't quite keep a grimace from taking up residence on her face, no matter how fleetingly. "Snow absolutely insisted on having Marco custom-make the frame for that thing."

Trying to encourage her to relax, Robin nudges her gently. "What'd you do with it after it was framed, tuck it away again in some cobweb infested corner of the vault."

Regina returns his nudge with sassy affection. "I gave it to Zelena… and excuse me? How many times have you been inside my vault?"

"Did you add her name to it before you gave it to her? And I don't know. I wasn't aware I should be counting."

"Yes. I did." Regina raises a curious eyebrow. "More than two dozen?"

"That was nice of you. And, yes, I'd say so. That sounds like it could be about right."

"No, it wasn't." Regina folds her arms over her chest, as she uncrosses, and then re-crosses her legs in the opposite direction "I didn't do it to be nice."

"Oh no?"

"No. I did it to appease her. Snow seems to think that if Zelena feels like an accepted member of the family, she might be less hostile toward me." Regina shrugs. "If it'll keep her from trying to cause further problems between you and me, it's more than worth it. Didn't cost me a thing. I was going to throw the thing out anyway. And when have you ever seen so much as a single, solitary cobweb in my vault?"

Robin squints as he struggles to recall even one. "Come to think of it, I don't think I have seen one."

"That's because it would be highly dangerous. I keep the place spotless for a reason. Creepy crawly things like to live in the vicinity of cobwebs, Forest Boy. That's all I need is some eight-legged castaway falling into a batch of potion to completely alter whatever recipe I'm working on. I could very easily, and quite accidentally, blow Storybrooke and half the eastern seaboard out of existence."

Robin laughs. "That would land you in rather hot water with your son. I can just hear him. 'Mom, where are we supposed to get good pizza, now? You blew the entire state of New York right off the map!"

Regina chuckles archly. "You are a funny, funny man!"

Robin raises an eyebrow. "Am I?"

"I just happen to destroy both New York and the entire state of Maine, and you still think Henry's going to be alive to harass me about pizza?"

Having absolutely no idea what pizza is, or why it's so important to the mayor's son, Beatrice watches in quiet amusement as her own son back-pedals. "Well, maybe not alive; but we have been to the underworld. We know it exists."

Beatrice sits up a little straighter in her chair homing in on the silent communication as much as the spoken word between the couple.

"Yes, but pizza will be the least of his worries. It'll be, 'Mom! What – have – you - done!" Regina mimics in a strident tone of voice."

"Bright side?"

Regina's dark eyes widen suspiciously "Oh, this should be good. Robin," she challenges pointedly. "I dare you to find a bright side coexisting with the deaths of half a billion people! Even Snow White would have trouble pulling that one off."

"Your brother-in-law would be so bloody thrilled with you... and it can't be quite that many; can it?"

"Robin, there are eight million people in New York City alone. It may not be half a billion for half the eastern seaboard, but it would be close."

He squints. "No? There can't be. I mean I know it's one crowded city, but… eight million; really?"

Regina nods. "And what makes you think I've suddenly decided to concern myself with what Hades thinks of me?"

Robin flashes her his most appealingly rakish grin. "I know you couldn't care less what Hades thinks, love but if you send him that many people all at once, it won't matter that it was accidental. It won't even matter that they aren't magical. That many angry, confused people will power his collective with enough rage and darkness to keep him sitting pretty for a couple of eons. He'll send you back up here with anybody you want by your side, just hoping he gets lucky enough to have you blunder into doing it again!"

Regina scowls as if she's suddenly worried that her husband has taken leave of his senses. "Robin, what's going on with you? Gallows humor is not usually your style. Especially not when it comes to the subject of my atonement. You're sitting here making glib jokes about the deaths of countless people. Even if it were an accident, that's just… bad … Really bad!"

Both women watch, in total confusion, as he suddenly relaxes.

Now completely at ease, he smiles and says quietly. "I know. And so do you. And now, she knows - whatever she has or hasn't heard - that you know. She also knows that I know exactly who I am married to. I didn't enter into this thing blindly. I'm right where I want to be. So, will both of you…" He squeezes his wife's shoulders and smiles at his mother. "Please, relax, because if you keep making nice with each other, you're going to give me an ulcer!"

Beatrice laughs softly as Regina scowls and swats her son roughly on the chest. "Robin!"

Shrugging, Robin rises from his perch on the arm of her chair. "I'm going to get the tea. Feel free to talk about me while I'm gone." He bows slightly before he quick-steps from the room leaving Beatrice to watch as Regina stares at the saucer of cheese and crackers resting in her lap. The older woman has no doubt that the younger is considering the prudence, or lack thereof, of hurling the fine china at the back of her son's head.

"I think, my dear, that we have just been – handled."

Regina chuckles darkly. "Oh, I'm well aware. And, I can't say I care for the experience."

"Nor I. What should we do about it?"

Regina shrugs nonchalantly and gives the question a devious moment's speculation before answering, "We could join forces and - handle – him."

Beatrice laughs openly for a moment before she stops, gives the suggestion serious consideration, and smiles. Lowering her voice to a whisper, she declares, "Now that you mention it; it is quite possible I might need your help with something."

Her curiosity piqued; Regina raises an inviting eyebrow.

"I didn't wake up this morning and just decide, spur of the moment, to track him down and say hello."

Regina nods intuitively. "I thought not."

When Beatrice raises her own inquiring eyebrow, her daughter-in-law continues. “It's an awfully treacherous journey to make, just to say hello. Not that any mother wouldn't, but still…"

"I'm afraid it may have been much more treacherous than even you know, Regina. I'm here because help is needed back home. Robin is needed."

Regina sets her light repast aside untouched on a nearby end table and leans forward slightly in her seat. "Are you in some sort of trouble?"

"No dear. It's not me personally. If it were, I wouldn't feel the slightest bit reticent in telling him. It's bigger than one person. Much bigger. Only, I'm afraid that when I tell him what is needed – well, I'm quite certain the news is not going to be well received. And, the truth be told, as badly as I know something must be done, I've half a mind not to tell him. A mother's first instinct is always to protect her cub; at least if she has any right to call herself a mother."

Regina watches the woman's gaze slide furtively toward the kitchen archway and decides to take the situation, whatever it may be, in hand. "Ms. Atherton, would you care to take a walk?"

Beatrice's eyes go wide. "I can't ask you to do that. You just walked here from town."

Regina waves the comment, and the concern behind it, aside as she rises to her feet. "This child belongs to her father. She's much more comfortable and therefore, much better behaved, out of doors."

Beatrice squints as she eyes Regina's belly. "How can you tell."

Regina intones drolly. "She pummels my insides approximately 60% less often when I'm breathing fresh air. If I spend too much time indoors, I wind up feeling like I've gone three rounds with a welterweight prizefighter."

"Oh, well then, I'd be happy to take a turn among the trees with you."

* * *

Ten minutes later, when Robin returns to the living room with another tray laid heavy with Regina's second-best tea service – the elegant but unadorned bone black china set she brought in Barcelona while on their honeymoon – he finds the living room empty and is quick to spot the two women walking outside courtesy of one of the barn's many multistory windows. He's mildly unsettled to realize that neither of them announced their departure until it occurs to him that they walk close to one another, not quite shoulder to shoulder but at a comfortable pace with something more casual in each of their bearings. They aren't exactly relaxed, but the stiff spines of propriety seem to be noticeably less rigid.

After another careful moment's observation, the thought strikes him that although their backs are turned, and he can see neither of their faces, they appear to be deep in conversation and quite possibly, in each other's confidence. Rather than disturb them, he decides to return the tea to the kitchen where it can be kept warm and wait them out.

They walk in silence for long moments while Beatrice sorts through her thoughts, trying to decide where best to begin.

Regina leaves her to it. Choosing, uncharacteristically, to allow her to set the pace and thereby forcing herself to exhibit a modicum of patience.

When she's ready, Beatrice chooses to start with a question she feels is no less than appropriate under circumstances such as theirs. "May I ask, how long have you been married?"

"Not long. Just shy of ten months.

"And Alan said he met you, himself, two years ago."

"Yes, it was not quite two years ago. that's when I was introduced to Robin as well."

"And in that brief time, the two of you have managed to move across realms to be together, merged not only your lives but also your families, set up house, conceived a child, and somehow managed, not only a trip to the underworld. but your return as well?"

"That's not even half of what we've managed in the last two years. And the truth is, we were long overdue when we finally did meet face to face."

"Really, because it all sounds like a bit of a whirlwind romance to me."

"Yes, I suppose I can understand how it must seem that way. I'm not quite sure how to articulate this exactly, but Robin and I have known each other… Always."

Beatrice stops and stares momentarily. "You don't strike me as a woman given to romantic flourishes of speech."

Regina's only reply is to chuckle softly.

"Has he told you anything of his past?"

"Robin has told me quite a few things. However, I can recall only one thing that seemed to be a sore subject – the kind of thing you might be reluctant to discuss in his presence. To use his own turn of phrase, and he is a bit more given to romantic flourishes of speech than myself, you are not the woman biologically responsible for his existence; but I do believe Robin would sooner die than do you the disservice of referring to Lady, Cecilia Eldebury, the Marchioness of Elyria, as his mother."

"Oh, you do know, then. It's the one thing in his life that has left him with a bit of a chip on his shoulder. One I tried to gently file down for his own good, but I didn't quite succeed. He always knew I was not his mother by birth, I never wanted to tell that lie, not even when he was a boy. Perhaps I should have. When he learned the truth about the marchioness it became a tipping point for him. He was already disgusted with the condition of the lives of common people in our realm. Learning that he'd essentially been abandoned by a woman of royal standing, hardened his youthful disdain for the elite class. He ran off into the woods full of ire and vinegar and although I've kept my ears open for any word of him, until today, I had not seen him for over twenty years." She pauses to smile graciously. "He looks good. I suppose I have you to thank for that, at least in part."

"I cannot imagine what that must be like. Or perhaps I just don't want to. The thought of not seeing either of my boys for twenty plus years… And Robin is good. But he came to me the way he is. You can thank yourself for that because you certainly had a great deal more to do with it than I. Yourself, and his late wife, Marian, you are the ones who shaped him. Either you did a better job filing down the chip on his shoulder than you think you did. Or Marian did it for you. She was from the House of Dubois, a second cousin to King Richard and she gave up what could have been a much more privileged lifestyle to live in a tent in the woods with a bandit. She gave him Roland, and he loves and misses her deeply."

"And that does not trouble you?"

"No."

"You must have your own understanding of that kind of loss, then."

"I do."'

Beatrice nods. "When he was younger, Robin painted all royalty with the same black brush in his mind. Obviously, a significant shift has taken place. One must have in order to allow him to… uh, well.."

Regina chuckles. "Oh, come on, you may not have been rude about it, but you haven't exactly refrained from speaking your mind. Obviously, a significant shift has taken place if he could allow himself to set up house with a woman in possession of a reputation like the one that precedes me. I was the quintessential reason people were apt to paint royalty with black brushes."

"I've heard that very thing said."

"And, quite a bit more; no doubt."

"Are people truly that badly misinformed."

"No, whatever you've heard. It's all true."

"But that doesn't make sense. Robin hasn't changed that much, Regina."

"No. Not that much, but he's no longer that angry youth filled with ire and vinegar. He always was basically good. Somewhere along the course of his life, Robin developed an independent mind. He decided he should think for himself and make his own decisions about people, regardless of what others might have to say about them. That's why he was able to take a chance on me. I'm the one who's changing."

"For Robin?"

"No. I started changing for my son, Henry. He deserves better than the person I was. He deserves better than the person I am. He still motivates me. So do Robin and Roland, but I keep doing it for the sake of the progress I've made. I keep doing it because I don't want to lose what I've gained as a result - and Robin is a part of that."

Beatrice nods again. "So, if he's married to a queen - might he now be receptive to taking his own natural-born place in the hierarchy?"

Regina laughs. "Robin did not marry me because he had any aspirations of claiming a place for himself amongst royalty. That has not changed. He loves me. I just happen to be royalty. One thing has absolutely nothing to do with the other. He'll go back to Sherwood and resume robbing carriages before he decides to sit on a throne and claim a royal title for himself."

"You're certain? Backward though it was, his life as a bandit was rather civic-minded."

"He is still incredibly civic-minded. Sometimes, infuriatingly so. But I'm not at all certain his life as a bandit was backward."

Beatrice laughs. "Have I heard you correctly? Are you, Queen of the Enchanted Forest, Mayor of Storybrooke, advocating thievery?"

"No, and neither does Robin - at least not with any self-serving interest. He's not a wealthy man; at least not financially speaking. He never has more than a few dollars to his name. I've seen him light a fire by striking a rock against the blade of a knife more than once. It's a process made easy in this world by a handy little invention called a match. But he already has the knife, he can find a rock anywhere, and matches cost money. What little he has; he would rather give most of it away to someone who needs it more than he does. He has his tavern, and he manages the place. It's doing well. I don't know if it's in the black yet. It may not be completely self-sustaining just yet, but he'll get there. If there is any profit coming in, he's not selfishly stockpiling it. I can almost guarantee you that most of it goes right back out into our community. He's run out of royal carriages to rob in the name of social justice, but he's still doing his part to bridge the gap between the ranks."

"How hard would it be to convince him to at least consider returning to Elyria to bridge the gap that still exists there, and is about to get exponentially wider?"

Regina pauses to consider the answer; her eyes narrowing at the thought. "I'm not sure that it can be done. Our life is here. You would have to offer him some serious motivation - motivation that amounts to positively Herculean proportion."

They walk quietly for several long moments before Beatrice chooses to quietly impart the heavy news she came with the express purpose of sharing.

"Cecilia Eldebury is dying. The title passes down directly through her bloodline, not through her husband's, who by the way, was not Robin's father. Robin does have an older half-brother, Broderick Eldebury, but the title is not expected to pass to him. He's not favored by parliament."

"Oh, why is that?"

"Quite honestly, he is a philandering dilettante who lacks both the focus and the mental acuity to hold the post."

"And what about his father? Is the Marquis still living?"

"Physically, his lordship is still present and accounted for, but he's an old man Regina, and I'm afraid his mind is leaving him. That fact has been well-hidden for a number of years, but upon Cecilia's death, it will become public knowledge. It is only a matter of time."

"Assuming Broderick Eldebury is passed over, and Robin does not step forward to claim his place in line - the line of succession generally falls to extended family at that point. Are there any children younger than Robin?"

"No. Robin is her only other direct descendant. She had a sister who died a number of years ago. The title will fall to the eldest living male descendant of her sister."

"I haven't spent any time in Elyria for a number of years. Any idea who that might be?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so, and that is essentially why I've come. I lost all respect for Cecilia Eldebury the day she sent me on my way with your husband in my arms; newborn and discarded before he was a full two hours old. But like her or not, she was a better choice than the grand-nephew who will likely have the title if something is not done to stop it."

Regina simply raises an eyebrow and waits for the impending bomb she senses is about to be dropped.

"Not only is he taxing people right into squalor, despair, and starvation; Regina he's, crushing them under the weight of his jackbooted heel, but in recent years, he's developed some sort of perverse hatred for any and all magical practitioners. He's executing people by fire for nothing more than suspicion of magical ability. I, myself am not so sure the practice of magic is good, healthy, or wise, but no one should die simply for possessing the ability to wield magic, let alone the mere suspicion of it. I'm afraid that if his rank is elevated to Marquis, he may become unstoppable…"

Regina places a firm hand on her arm, arresting both her walking and her speech. "Ms. Atherton… Beatrice… just tell me."

"It's George Nottingham."

Physically recoiling, Regina takes a step back and blinks once and then twice before clasping her hands together in front of her mouth and nose.

"George Nottingham?"

Beatrice nods silently.

"George Nottingham – the sheriff?"

Beatrice nods again.

Regina immediately turns on her heel and steps toward her back door with renewed purpose in her stride only to take five steps and then turn, yet again, shaking her head as a new thought burns through her mind.

"You're telling me that, that thug who can be bought and sold for little more than a pittance is biologically related to Robin, and he's about to be granted a royal title, and all the power that comes along with it?"

"Unfortunately, yes."

Oh, this is not good…This is… This is bad! Damn it!"

Beatrice's eyes widen noticeably at the sudden lack of composure her host is exhibiting.

Regina closes her eyes against the rising tide of dread inside and hisses venomously. "I knew. I knew when I saw that new page in Henry's book nearly nine months ago that we were not going to make it through this pregnancy without having to go back there and kick somebody's ass!"

"What made you so sure you would be going back to… kick ass?"

"It would have to be something that significant. There's no other reason we would go back to that damn forest with me in my present condition!"

Regina turns on her heel and, once again, resumes her march toward the house. "Robin!"

* * *

The conversation starts out easily enough despite its rather bumpy beginning. Beatrice thinks maybe, just maybe, things might go better than she expected. At least, she thinks so briefly, anyway. And then…

She watched it. She saw it happen. And still, she isn't quite sure how it happened. One minute, Robin is opening the back door, his blue eyes full of alarm as he reaches out for his shouting wife. Then there's an understandable moment of confusion during which, an elderly man enters the house via the front door, letting himself in and walking into the kitchen as if he simply belongs there. When he steps toward the commotion with only curiosity in his eyes, as opposed to panic or worry Beatrice supposes that this must be King Henry, Regina's father, and that, apparently, he's quite accustomed to the sound of animated voices in his home. Without interrupting, he simply watches as the beginnings of calamity unfolds.

"What? Regina, love, what's wrong? What's happening? Is it the baby? Are you in labor?"

"No, no I'm fine. She's fine. We're fine. Robin, relax! Stop touching me! Everything's okay. She's fine. I'm sorry I startled you. But we have to go, now! Change clothes, pack a bag! Well, don't just stand there looking at me! I said, move! Hurry up! Go! Now, pack! If we hurry the hell up and get there, maybe, just maybe, we can hurry the hell up and get back home again before I do go into labor…. because I do not want to give birth in the middle of that damn forest!" Regina growls angrily and stomps her foot. "We knew something like this was going to happen. Why didn't we do something sooner? Why the hell couldn't this have happened six months ago!"

With his hands and fingers spread wide apart, Robin pats the air trying to make sense of all the noise his wife is making. "Wait! Stop, back up a minute. Is this about the baby or isn't it?"

Agitated and pacing aggressively, Regina wobbles her head side to side. "Sort of, you need to go to Sherwood. Actually, I think you need to go to Elyria, to be more specific. We need to go now, and we need to be quick about it because I don't want it to become about the baby. Okay? You are going! I'm going with you! No arguments! Because you are not going by yourself. I will not let you! And we are coming back. I am going to give birth to this little girl in a nice clean sterile hospital with lots of drugs and doctors and nurses and baby blankets and… No forests, no tents, no dirt, no pinecones, and nobody is tying off her umbilical cord with a shoelace, or any other makeshift item that isn't expressly meant for the task. We are coming back here before that happens. Got it! Understand this now. We are going, and we are coming back because I'm not giving birth to our daughter laying on the ground!"

Robin squints. "But, right now, right this minute, you're fine?"

"Yes, Robin. I told you. I'm fine. She's fine. Keep up with me!"

Robin laughs and groans simultaneously. "Bloody hell! Woman, are you trying to give me a heart attack? You cannot… You are not allowed… to make this much bloody noise this close to your due date if it's not about the baby! You scared me half out of my mind Regina! It's not like you to shout - stomp around growling maybe, but… We knew that eventually; a trip was going to have to be made. So, why are you making so much noise?"

"Because I'm angry! I swear, why can't this ever happen when it's convenient?" She growls and kicks one of the legs on the large solid oak dining table in their spacious kitchen. I don't want to go. But we have to!"

Robin shoves his fingers through his hair with equal parts frustration and relief. "Okay, start over. Where exactly are we going, and why do we have to?"

As Regina launches into the explanation, telling him everything Beatrice told her only moments before, Henry steps up beside Beatrice and quietly introduces himself. "Hello, I'm Henry, her father, and you are?"

She smiles and tilts her head in his direction, whispering back as she points, "Beatrice Atherton. His mother. Just arrived from Sherwood. Is it always this lively around here?"

Henry smiles patiently. "This is nothing. It may take them several minutes. It may take them a few hours. But eventually, they will simmer down an act like nary a voice was ever raised. They are just a passionate couple. They like to make noise. Especially my daughter. Your son is definitely the more sedate one, but she keeps him on his toes."

Beatrice nods. "And, this is commonplace, you say?"

Henry chuckles softly. "My dear lady, it may not seem so to you, but this is glorious! Trust me, compared to the cold, unfeeling silence that existed between her mother and me, this is most definitely what you want for them. Knowing the two of them, as I do, in a few moments, one of them, if not both of them, will be seriously angry about … whatever this is in reference to. It will get louder for a time, but then the storm will pass, and happy or not, they will do whatever needs to be done together, as a team. Fear not. This is not the first time, nor will it be the last time, they do this. If you'd like, you are more than welcome to accompany me to the third floor where my well-used record player will afford them a bit of privacy. Unless you'd actually like to stay here and witness the affectionate mayhem that's about to occur."

"I think it would be best if I didn't. Tell me, please, what is a record player?"

Henry nods his head toward the spiral staircase visible in the great room through the kitchen archway. "Right this way, Madame."

* * *

Unconsciously choosing their battle positions, they take up familiar posts standing on opposite sides of their large kitchen table, and after having heard the story through, Robin shakes his head vehemently, pointing at his wife as he talks. "No! Absolutely not! Out of the question!"

Regina scowls hideously, the vein popping out in the center of her forehead the way it does when she's beyond mere frustration. "Robin, do not be stubborn. Don't dig your heels in. Not about this, and not now! We don't have time for this."

"Precisely! We don't have time for this. Not now! You especially don't have time for this! And you're calling me stubborn?"

"Robin, you can't just leave those people to Nottingham! You of all people know what he's like! We have to do something!"

"Why does it always have to be us?"

"it's not always us. It just feels that way now because neither one of us wants to go."

"You're not going!" He wildly gestures toward her belly, "Not like this."

"Robin, we don't have a choice!"

"Oh yes, we do! We can leave the problems of Elyria to the people of Elyria. We live here!"

"You don't mean that!" Regina growls

"Oh, the hell I don't!"

"Robin… How can you! You can't stay here. You can't turn your back. I know you don't want it, but you have a responsibility…"

"Damn right I do. My first responsibility, my very first priority, is to you and our children! You don't want me going by myself. And I am not taking you with me! Especially, not if that animal is executing mages… or even just people he suspects of being mages. You are not getting anywhere near him! Not ever, but especially not now! And I'm not leaving you, not this close to your due date. I will not risk missing the birth of our daughter. Not for anything or anyone."

"So, take me with you. Let's go. Now, and put a stop to this and come back home before she's born."

"And just how do you suggest I guarantee that?"

"You can't, Robin!" her voice temporarily loses some of its volume and its sting. "There are no guarantees. We both know that. But still, you can't just leave those people to starve or be forced out of their homes into the cold. That's not who you are. I don't want you to compromise yourself. Not for me… or even for our children. Sometimes it's not fair, Robin but privilege and rank don't come without responsibility."

Furious, he seethes. "I never asked for either privilege or rank, Regina."

"Well like it or not, you've got them both!" She fires back darkly as she paces in agitation, stomping out her frustration on the floor while Robin stands stock still resting on the balls of his feet, arms folded, legs apart, like a sentry.

"Oh really? Is that you, or your mother talking?"

Whirling to face him and glaring, she pounds on the tabletop with both fists and shouts, "Don't! Don't go there! Don't bring her into this! This has nothing to do with her!"

"You sure? Because just a second ago, you sounded just like her!"

"No, I didn't! Mother never gave a damn about her responsibility to anybody less fortunate than herself. Oh sure, she cared plenty for the rank and the privilege. But, to her, the responsibility that came with those things was meaningless. I'm not like that. Well, at least, not anymore, and you damn well know it!"

For a long heavy moment, he looks at the floor, ashamed of himself. Then, turning his gaze back to her, he says quietly, "That wasn't fair. I apologize. I just… No, no excuses. I'm sorry, Regina."

Suddenly deflated, yet supremely annoyed with herself, because she suddenly and inexplicably feels like crying, Regina scowls and quietly folds her arms over her chest as she steps around the table, approaching slowly, to stand before him. Close enough to touch without actually doing so, close enough to feel his ragged breath gently stir her hair. Standing there in front of him, she smirks and offers a quiet compromise "You just … don't want to go." She whispers. "You just. .. want to stay here and keep me and our baby safe."

Robin nods without a word.

"But you can't. You can't, Robin, because this is bigger than me and our baby."

He shakes his head and whispers softly, "It is not! Regina, there is nothing bigger than you and our baby."

Scowling peevishly, she reaches out and pinches his bicep hard enough to make him flinch before saying softly. "You might want to rephrase that, forest boy!"

Robin squints until his choice of words echoes back to him in his mind. Grinning sheepishly, he wraps his arms around her and whispers against the crown of her head. "You know what I mean!"

She breathes in the scent of him as she nods. Her cheek resting against his shoulder, she whispers. Robin, you have got to go stop him."

He scowls; momentarily grumbling under his breath.

She pinches him again. "Stop that!" She breathes quietly. "You're starting to sound like me."

Laughing, he kisses the top of her head. "I've done worse."

"You still have to go stop him."

Yeah, yeah! Quit nagging me, woman! I heard you the first five times."

"You're going?"

"That is what you keep telling me. The question is, are we going to risk waiting another month or so? Or are you going to brave the forest? Because I mean it, I am not missing her debut for anything or anyone!" He gently caresses his wife's belly. "I will do everything humanly possible to see that you're not laying on the ground when she's born. I swear it, Regina. But, either we wait until after she's born, and leave her behind or, you come along. Because I don't like either option, but If my choice is to either wait or leave you behind; I'll risk the waiting. I will not miss her birth, and I don't want you here alone when it happens."

Regina sighs peevishly in resignation. "We're stronger together; both of us."

He nods. "Always."

She nods her head and stomps her foot. "Damn it!" She hisses. "I will go pack… And call Snow to let her know what's going on so, she can fill in for me for a few days at the office."

"I'll get Will to fill in for me a few days at the tavern. I'll get our boys and some of the merry men. It might be helpful to have a few of them along for the journey."

Regina nods again. "Henry and Roland can stay here with Daddy, and I'll stop by the pumpkin patch and have a word with our resident illegal bean grower."

Robin raises a curious eyebrow and takes a risk. "You know about the pumpkin eater's secret bean patch, eh?"

Regina rolls her eyes. "Oh please! In the first place, I am the mayor. In the second, it's the worst-kept secret in town!"

"But, you haven't shut down his operation, or had David run him in?"

She grimaces before she admits, "Okay, truth is, we have a deal. More and more frequently, we're needing the beans. So, Peter gets to keep his illegal bean growing operation, out there among the pumpkins and David, Emma, and I all look the other way as long as he doesn't get caught selling magic beans to any minors looking to realm jump without the consent of a parent or guardian."

Robin nods and purses his lips together thoughtfully. "Seems like a reasonable exchange. Especially since we're going to need a couple of beans to make our trip. But there is one more thing we have to discuss before we go anywhere."

Regina raises an eyebrow and waits.

"Promise me now… Absolutely no magic once we get there. Not until we're back here on terra firma in Storybrooke."

Regina squints. "It's sort of hard to promise something like that without knowing exactly what we're walking into, Robin. We don't have any idea what we'll face when we get there."

Robin tips her chin back gently with the side of his bent index finger and holds her gaze. "No, we don't, but he already hates me, Regina. I don't think he knows we're related. Once he finds out, he's not simply going to welcome me into the fold with open arms. Not that I would accept any such invitation. We also have it on good authority that Nottingham is zealously executing anyone even suspected of practicing magic. If you expose yourself, chances are, he won't wait for our girl to be born, and even if by some chance he does, she will be in no less danger than you. It's not just my blood that flows through her veins. It's yours too. To the best of my knowledge, old George doesn't have a soft spot for beautiful baby girls. He'll condemn her just as quickly as you. So, no matter what happens, no magic! You promise me now, for the sake of our daughter."

Regina inhales deeply and willingly nods her head. "I promise."


	6. Chapter 6

* * *

**The Enchanted Forest**

**Almost Seventeen Years into The Future**

She did it. She found the bloody vault. Not that he really doubted she would. She said she would, and she never fails to do what she sets out to do. John Jacob Little tugs gently at the hand in his. It's the hand of the only worthwhile girl in all the realms; well, at least as far as he's concerned.

Pleased with her success, she clasps her hands together in front of her mouth and blows a kiss at the great foreboding stone doors of the mausoleum tucked away in an ill-traveled, nearly forgotten, patch of the wood. Brimming with an excitement that she deliberately keeps a tight rein on, she glances back at him, with a radiant smile visible on a full, voluptuous set of lips.

Laughing at the uncertainty in his eyes she tugs gently against his resistance, her blue eyes dancing merrily as her short, dark curls bob and sway gently in the light summer breeze

Tugging more insistently at his hand, she scowls and offers a lighthearted objection. "Aww, come on J.J. We found it. Don't worry. It'll be fine."

"You found it. I'm just along for the walk, and I'm not at all certain it's going to be fine."

She shrugs. "Fine then. Leave if you want. I'm going in."

J.J. shakes his head. "Oh no, I cannot leave you here. As it is, when your dad finds out about this little excursion, he's going to bloody pound on me for going along with it, but if he hears that I backed out and left you here alone, he's going to do worse than just pound on me, he's going to skin me alive."

She squints in obvious confusion. "I think you have a warped perception of just who Daddy is J.J."

"Oh no, I don't! He's a swell guy who almost never loses his cool, except for in matters concerning the welfare and safety of his baby girl!"

He gestures toward the vault; its entryway heavily overgrown with thick vines and persistent foliage that tries to push its way through even the most minuscule crack in the heavy stone walls. "It's bad enough you're here. This alone is more than dangerous, but the fact that you are meeting her here… If he finds out about that, he might just skin you, too."

She objects. "I'd much rather ask for forgiveness than permission. If this doesn't work, Daddy's going to be really, really mad at me, but he won't hurt me. Daddy would die before he hurt me. But, if it does work the way I want it to; he'll never know, and even if he does know, I guess, I'm hoping he'll be too happy to stay mad at me for very long. Hell, if it works the way I want it to, I probably won't even remember doing this."

J.J. opens his mouth prepared to offer further argument until he hears movement; the sound of leaves rustling and a twig snapping under a small delicate foot.

He turns and scowls as a young redhead scarcely older than his girl steps into view and uses long slender fingers to remove a bright cerulean colored silk hood, exposing her face and her hauntingly beautiful creamy complexion. He groans inwardly as his girl, and the redhead rush to embrace with quiet enthusiasm that borders on pure joy.

"El. You made it! The brunette declares with hushed zeal.

"Well, of course, I made it." The strikingly tall redhead with a willowy, yet elegant stature ensures.

"Were you able to get off restriction."

"No, I snuck out. Dad's being impossible, I swear, go and do a tiny little thing like accidentally blow all the windows out of the house, and he totally goes apocalyptic. Never mind the fact that I put all the windows back in under ten seconds, and nobody got hurt. I mean, he acts like I swallowed the Olympian crystal or something!"

"El, you shouldn't have come. You're going to get into trouble."

The redhead waves the comment aside. "I don't care. There's no way I would miss this. You need me. Besides, 2 ½ more months, 2 ½ more months, and I will be eighteen. One second after midnight, I'm out of there! He can't keep me there after Uncle Zeus lifts the underage travel restriction on my powers. I can go to any realm or any world I want, and there's nothing he can do about it. I can hardly wait. I've been positively bored out of my mind. You can't possibly imagine how good it is to see you again."

The brunette frowns. "There's a restriction on where you're allowed to travel. You didn't tell me that. Does that mean this won't work?"

"I can't leave this realm. That doesn't mean I can't travel back and forth through time within this realm. That is assuming, of course, that we can make the time-travel spell work. I'm pretty sure it will if we combine it with the spell to call a lost witch. We're gonna have to tweak it just a teensy little bit to fit our situation, but I say it's high time we get started. We won't know one way or the other standing around out here talking about it either."

The redhead turns and looks with dire determination at the place where the vault doors should be located beneath the overgrown weeds and foliage." Are you ready?"

"I was born ready!"

J.J. sighs, resigning himself to the fact that there's no stopping his girl now. In doing so, he calls attention to himself and the willowy redhead eyes him seemingly with cool indifference. "Oh look, I see you brought the little hoodlum."

"Ginger." J.J. bows in mock chivalry."

"El, be nice."

"What? I am nice."

"You know what I mean. Don't start in on J.J."

"What, start in on. He is 19, 6 feet 4 inches tall, and approximately – what; 230 pounds? Geez relax, he can take care of himself. He can certainly handle a little bit of lip from little ol' me. Can't you little J.J?"

J.J. rolls his eyes and says nothing. He watches the girls step up to the door.

The redhead eyes the brunette. "Did you bring something of hers."

The younger of the two steps closer. When they are shoulder to shoulder, she drapes one end of the delicate black and white silk scarf around her own neck around the other girl's neck as well so they're sharing it.

Before J.J. can stop her, El removes a jewel-encrusted dagger from the inner pocket of her cloak, takes the hand of her friend and neatly slices diagonally through the center of her left palm, quick as a hiccup.

Then, while J.J. is protesting noisily, "Hey, wait just a damn minute, you bloody half-breed!" She ignores him and slices through the palm of her own right hand just as quickly and then the two girls mash their freshly bleeding wounds together and hold tight. The redhead quickly tosses a small vial of some unknown obsidian liquid against the door of the vault and thick black smoke rises the instant before the two of them place their free hands side by side against the sealed doors and began to chant in what J.J. can only assume is Elfish, if not some other bloody arcane language.

Smoke rises, stone crumbles, the earth rumbles low and deep and a cloud of dust thick enough to momentarily obscure them from view billows out from the corners of the entryway as the great doors swing open on their hinges and crash loudly against the inner walls.

For a moment, not one of the trio moves. Then, once the dust settles, the girls turn to each other smiling.

"Told you it would work!"

"Na-uh, I told you."

"Oh, never mind. It doesn't matter who told who. Shall we?"

The brunette reaches out, and tentatively fingers the air, double checking to make sure there are no further unseen magical barriers to forestall them. When she isn't zapped or blown backward off her feet, she squeaks quietly with a momentarily uncontainable rush of excitement and hums low and merrily, "We're off to see the wizard!"

Laughing, her redheaded companion declares drolly, "Let's hope not. If we wind up in Oz, we'll be done before we even get started."

With the reticent company of a stalwart friend, with bravado born of unspoiled youth, and with their minds unburdened by time or history, they march in, two girls on a mission. Eager one moment, and pensive the next, they can't help but be subdued by the sight of a trio of marble crypts and one urn laid heavy with dust.

Less bothered than her female cohort, the redhead breathes in the stale undisturbed air as she looks around curiously. "How do we get below? I know we can, but I can't recall exactly how. Which one covers the entry?"

"Well, the last time I was in here…" The brunette pauses solemnly to think and J.J. drops a protective arm around her shoulders, squeezing them gently. "I'm not sure I remember right either. It was a long time ago. I think it was Grandmother. But then, that was Storybrooke, and this isn't. Papa was laid to rest here in the Enchanted Forest and moved over with the casting of the first curse. Then, of course, he was resurrected later. It was probably at that time that Grandmother got moved. El, can you look and see which one is which?" She folds her arms over her chest, hugging herself. "I don't think I'm ready for that just yet."

The redhead smiles sadly with quiet understanding and crosses to the left corner of the room. Wiping a heavy coat of dust away from the gold nameplate affixed to the urn that rests in the center of a freestanding pedestal just for curiosity's sake, she reads the name with an inquiring lilt to her voice. "Daniel Coulter?"

The brunette nods. "The one Cora murdered."

"Oh right, the stable hand. I forgot about him." She moves to the sarcophagus farthest from the urn and unsettles more dust to find a family crest that technically could be considered her own, but it is not the one she acknowledges. She nods. "This one is Grandmother." It makes sense to me to put your grandfather in the other corner. Just let me verify, but I'm guessing that the one in the middle…"

The brunette shakes her head as she deliberately avoids looking at the crypt resting on the far opposite side of the room from their shared grandmother's final resting place. Well – actually, she knows that isn't right. She knows her maternal grandmother is dead, but the woman is still not at rest.

"No, that's not right El." The brunette looks at the toes of her knee-high riding boots. Daddy wouldn't do that. I know why it makes sense to you, but he wouldn't have put her in the middle between the two of them. She spent most of her life caught in the middle. He wouldn't leave her to rest there. She's in the one over on the other side. So, if Grandmother is over here on this side, then Papa's got to be in the middle."

"After quickly checking the nameplates on the other two tombs the redhead nods. "Okay, you're right about that. These things look heavy. I would like not to have to move more than one if at all possible. Any idea which one the trapdoor is most likely to be under?"

"Daddy promised he'd let me come here and go through the place after I turn eighteen. He wouldn't want me moving her."

"Okay, that gives us a 50/50 chance."

The dark-haired girl squints, lost in a memory. "She told Roland once that Papa kept all her secrets - no matter how big or small - he never told."

"Yeah, honey, but would your dad remember that? Is it something that would stick in his mind? Never mind, of course, he would." She answers her own question. "He remembers everything about her. So, you think, even in death, your granddad's still guarding her secrets?"

She smiles and answers softly, barely above a whisper. "Yes, Papa would do that."

The redhead studies her friend. "You sure you wanna do this?"

"It's not a question of want to… I have to."

"There is a possibility this isn't going to work?"

"Then what have I to lose – except a few mementos, a few keepsakes."

"Things that are precious to you and your dad; not to mention your brothers. Is it worth the sacrifice?"

"How can you even ask me that? You know what it's like, El. Every time I make a wish; every single time I've ever blown out a birthday candle, every time I pitch a penny in the well, every time I flip a coin, every time I've ever blown the fuzz off a dandelion, every time a star falls… I wish for time with her. Besides Roland, you're the only person in my life who knows what that feels like. No matter how much, or how often, people tell you about them, all you wish for, all you ever hope for is the chance to know something about them - something just for yourself, something nobody else knows."

The redhead nods and shrugs at the same time. Without any further comment, she lifts her hands, arms out, palms up. Using magic, she slides the half-ton marble crypt a few feet to the left; revealing the hidden entrance below, with a quiet but spunky, "Pardon me for disturbing your rest, but shove over, Your Majesty."

J.J. clears his throat. "Remind me never to let you near my family plot."

The redhead sneers sarcastically and his girl chuckles. "No, it's alright J.J. Papa would laugh if he heard her. He wouldn't mind a little irreverence. He always said people were too apt to treat him with respect for the wrong reasons. He said, just because a person is royalty is not enough of a reason for respect. Royalty is something most people have no choice about. They're born into it whether they deserve to be or not. Respect - respect needs to be earned."

"Yeah, I know. I remember him saying that. I really miss the old guy."

"You and me both, J.J. You and me both."

She looks at the redhead and raises an eyebrow when her old childhood pal waves her forward with a dramatic flourish.

"Hey, as far as I'm concerned, this place is all yours by birthright. If anybody is going to go down the dark dusty passageway first … Well, that honor should be all yours. Go for it, cousin."

Chuckling softly, the brunette descends the steep winding stone staircase careful to focus on where she's going and resist the temptation to look back over her shoulder at her friends as she shields her head and face and pushes cobwebs out of her path.

Once on the lower landing, she turns a slow circle staring at a multitude of unseen items invisible behind drop cloths. For a moment, she isn't sure where to start first until she spots the heavy black and silver brocade draperies pulled tightly closed along the innermost wall.

Eyeing her friends, her own bright eyes going wide and shimmering with delight, she mouths aloud, "I wonder…"

The redhead raises one perfectly arched eyebrow and lifts one shoulder in a casual shrug before nodding encouragement. "There's only one way to find out girl."

She hesitates a moment longer before making up her own mind and marching across the cavernous room; the low heels of her riding boots echoing like muted thunderclaps rolling against the ancient stone floor as she sidesteps to one corner and quickly deposits a few of her most treasured possessions – the first quiver and bow that her father ever owned. First, given to her brother, and then later, when he had outgrown them and needed something different, they were safely tucked away to await the day they would be passed down to her.

Raising her arms high overhead, she snaps back the draperies with a commanding flourish. Reaching out, she snags the drop cloth that covers a strikingly exquisite looking glass; one that is round and encased in elegant silver that streaks out in all directions.

Smiling, she places her hands on her hips and strikes a pose like a clothing model strutting a catwalk in Milan, before turning and inquiring quietly, almost as if she's issuing a dare, "Mirror, mirror on the wall; show me the one I seek most of all."

When the mirror reflects nothing more than her own image back to her, she shrugs as if she's carefree and announces, "Oh well, I didn't really think it was going to be that easy anyway, but you can't blame a girl for trying."

The wide-eyed three of them spend precious moments wandering around the underground room pulling dust laden drop cloths off protected items and admiring treasured possessions or staring at oddities in wonder with their heads crooked to the sides.

Looking casually over her shoulder, the brunette softly reminds her beau, "I wouldn't risk touching anything if I were you J.J. I don't think anything horribly bad will happen to either of us, but we're related. That makes a difference. I'd hate for you to lose any important body parts if you come across something that's been booby-trapped for the express purpose of protecting it from would-be thieves."

No sooner than she says this, a small, but noisy explosion sounds and on reflex, the young man drops a small but ornate chest filled with tightly encased vials of a thick dark liquid.

Tsk-ing and bristling slightly in mild disapproval, she hurries to him, putting out flames with nothing more than the wave of her hand and instantly healing the angry-looking, but largely inconsequential burn on both his hands. When she's done, she spins him around, gently guiding him back to stand in front of an empty expanse of wall. "Stand here, hands in pockets, touch nothing!"

J.J. nods mutely, mildly traumatized but otherwise un-stung.

Only when she's sure he's going to comply does she step away from him and open a huge armoire filled with apparel; all of it obviously meant for this world and not the world they left behind in Storybrooke all those years ago.

She shuffles through the clothing until one particular ensemble catches her eye, and she pulls it out, hanging it on the back of the armoire's door so that she might examine it from a greater distance.

"Find something you like?" The redhead approaches with curiosity in her eyes.

Smiling broadly, J.J. nearly salivates. "Umm, okay, wow! I know you said her taste in clothing was rather bold, but honey, that's not just bold… In a word, that's fearless!"

The redhead eyes her cousin and whispers conspiratorially. "Methinks, he likes it!" Reaching into the armoire, she searches until she finds, and extracts, the cloak that was obviously meant to go with the combination velvet leather ensemble. Handing it over, she encourages forcefully, "Go on. Go try it on."

The brunette's eyes go wide, and she bites her lower lip and then shakes her head adamantly before inquiring, with equal parts fear and hope. "I can't; can I?"

The redhead laughs. "Of course, you can."

"I can't wear her things."

"Well, then what was the point of saving them all. If you can't wear them, I'd like to know who can. No one is more entitled than you. Go on. March! Go change behind the screen. We won't look. I won't let him peek."

Willing to be convinced, she shrugs as she surrenders the last of her doubt and steps behind the screen. Quickly pulling her blouse over her head, she declares, "Doesn't matter if he does peek. He won't see anything new."

Picking up on the untold story behind her words, her cousin gasps. "Since when? Why don't I know about this?"

J.J. squints comically in uncertainty. "Why should you know about it? It's between me and her."

The redhead ignores him. "When were you gonna tell me?"

"Whenever."

"Whenever?"

He tries again. "See, I'm still not clear on why she's entitled to know about it in the first place."

"Come on J, I tell her almost everything. She's practically my sister." The brunette hops slightly on one foot behind the screen; in the process of changing.

"You tell me almost everything?" El squints looking back and forth between the two of them; feeling like the odd man out. "Oh, I see, I've been demoted, have I?"

"Oh, come on El, don't be like that. You know I love you more than Winston."

She continues to squint. "You love me more than your horse?"

J.J. laughs. "Don't knock it. Coming from her, that's a huge compliment. She really loves that horse."

El makes a face as if there's a bad smell in the air and says drolly, "Yeah I know. It's unnatural. And, by the way, why is his name Winston? I mean, where in all of creation, did you come up with Winston?"

The brunette rolls her eyes. "Winston." She says as if enunciating clearly should somehow make the reason behind the choice instantly understood. When her cousin continues to stare blankly, cluelessly, she offers a little more. "Winston Churchill?"

"Never heard of him."

She tries again. "Renowned British prime minister famous for saying that the outside of a horse is good for the inside of a man. I figure the outside of a horse is good for the inside of a woman too. Though, I don't know if Churchill ever thought about that."

"Norah, I swear, where do you come up with this stuff?"

"I read. You should try it sometime."

"I'd rather experience something firsthand than read about it."

"Hey, I experience plenty. It's just that Papa had a whole library full of books on every subject imaginable. He had books from this realm, Storybrooke, New York, realms I've never even heard of; and he loved to read. He had books on plumbing and television repair, and science and medicine and great works of literature and bureaucracy, history, religion, and government and something called thermodynamics. He kept that last one right next to a copy of something called The Feminine Mystique. I opened it once when I was about twelve expecting to find that I had inadvertently stumbled onto my grandfather's private stash of porn. Much to my relief, that book was not at all what I expected, but it was a good read. He read everything he could get his hands on. He read to me every night for years, and not just boring dinky little kids' books either. I still remember him reading Moby Dick and starting off with, 'Call me Ishmael! Like we were setting out on some grand adventure. Or the Color Purple. I remember him whispering the opening line, 'You better not never tell nobody but God.' … Her warm smile slides into a half-hearted grimace. "El, you insisted I try this on. So, get back here and help adjust the thing for me." She scowls as she looks down at herself behind the screen. I don't think I'm quite woman enough to fill her corset."

The tall ginger-haired girl steps behind the partition and looks her cousin over with more than a little surprise. "You most definitely are woman enough! More so than I knew. You hide yourself under all those loose-fitting boy's clothes.

"Hey, I do not wear boy's clothes. I just like to be able to move without fighting with my wardrobe. Plus, I don't like making a spectacle of myself."

Well, then you will definitely want to take this off. But I'm not going to let you do it. It looks fabulous. Really…" She insists when her cousin shoots her a look of uncertainty. "You just need a few adjustments, that's all. You're younger, slightly less hip-ish and maybe a little shorter through the torso, but these things can be accounted for."

The girl squints, "She was hip-ish?"

The redhead thinks about it for a moment and clarifies, "She was more hip-ish than you, but then, she did give birth which, unless there is something else you haven't told me, you haven't done yet."

The corseted girl rolls her eyes. "Eliana!"

"What? Suck in."

"I did already, Hey, geez that's a little tight, El!"

"It's supposed to be tight. It's supposed to make you look regal."

"Is it supposed to cut off blood flow to my girl parts?"

"Quit complaining, smart ass! You look gorgeous! No, don't cover up with the cloak yet." Eliana smacks her cousin on the back side, "Get out there. Go show him what you look like with the lights on."

The dark-haired girl steps out from behind the screen, reaching back to smack roughly at the hands on her shoulders. "Will you please quit shoving me? She growls ominously. "I haven't bloody well forgotten how to walk!"

Eliana retracts her hands quickly as her cousin's bright blue gaze frosts over.

"Whoa! J.J. whistles. "Yep, I was right. That get-up is fearless!"

All irritation is forgotten, the young girl smiles brightly and then wishes she hadn't done so quite so readily. "Really? You're sure, it's okay?" She looks down at black leather and velvet that nearly fits like a second skin, while Eliana reaches back into the armoire and trades her dusty brown riding boots, for a highly polished black pair of the same.

"What you had on before was… okay. This is… heart-stopping."

Eliana lectures light-heartedly, "Only, stand up straight. You cannot slouch dressed like that!"

"I do not slouch!"

By way of reply, she leads her over to stand before the mirror once more. "This is not straight." She points to the younger girl's reflection before she physically adjusts her cousin's shoulders, spine, and hips, straightening her posture to the point of rigidity. "There, that's what standing up straight looks like. See the difference?"

She looks herself over, pleased with the result, but not terribly pleased with her cousin's present demeanor. "I thought we came down here to cast a spell. Not to give me deportment lessons. I refuse to walk around every moment of my life as if I have an invisible tome balanced perilously on the crown of my head."

Eliana rolls her eyes. "You don't have to walk around that way every moment of your life. But it's very helpful when you're wearing a corset. Walk around your way, and it's going to get really hard to breathe, really fast."

"El," The brunette rolls her eyes and sighs heavily.

"Hey, somebody has to look after you. Your dad lets you run around dressed like a penniless urchin who sleeps in the woods."

"First, I frequently do sleep in the woods. Second, Dad doesn't 'let' me run around dressed like anything. He's never once told me what to wear. Third, if we cast the spell, and if it works, you can leave the lectures about clothing to her."

"Well, let's get to it then, shall we?"

Eager to have something other than her attire to focus on, the brunette steps over to the long heavy stone table that was obviously intended to be a workstation and begins pulling out items she knows she will need from nearby inlaid shelves. It takes a few moments of rummaging around through shelves and trunks to find a coveted spellbook, one she tosses gently to the tabletop and continues on her search.

J.J. helps himself to the spell book while she collects an odd assortment of things. A mortar, a pestle, five white candles, a dagger, and a collection of small glass jars; each of them labeled in a foreign language to obviously contain some kind of ingredient. While she's doing this, she asks over her shoulder, "Did you bring it, El?"

"Of course, I brought it. But I could only find the original, not the updated one. Daddy hordes Mum's stuff." From the inside pocket of her shimmering blue cloak, she extracts a folded piece of parchment, and places it flat on the table, smoothing out the creases.

Glancing first at the book and then at the page on the table, J.J. declares, "I hope you girls know what you're doing. In this book, I'm looking at a spell to wake the dead, and this piece of paper requires a newborn infant to enact time travel. Please tell me you're not planning a zombie apocalypse or to commit infanticide."

The redhead rolls her eyes as her slightly shorter cousin rises first, to her feet and then to her tiptoes before placing a reassuring peck of a kiss on his cheek. "The spell to wake the dead doesn't work… Well, actually, it does but it doesn't bring back the person someone is grieving for. Basically, it brings back a zombie version of the one they want. That's not what I want. I don't think that's what she would want either. Not that I ever got the chance to ask her, mind you. And the time travel spell has been updated. You can relax, we aren't going to be using any babies. A baby is just the living embodiment of innocence. We're going to be using talismans instead. Aunt Zelena updated the spell when she tried to do this herself a number of years ago. She said if she sacrificed a living baby to try to go back for this reason… She said…if it worked mom would never forgive her. So, in the hopes that it works, we're not going to be sacrificing any babies, hearts, or brains. But..." With a forlorn glance, she eyes the secret passage. "if we're going to do it, I've got to go back up there."

Eliana eyes her cousin with compassion. "I'll go. I'll do it. Just tell me what you want me to get."

"No." The brunette shakes her head adamantly. "If I'm going to cast this spell, then the least I can do is have the guts to rob her myself!"

* * *

**Storybrooke, Maine**

**Present day**

"Did you get the beans?"

"Of course, I did. Did you get the boys?"

"I did. They're both on their way home. Neither of them is happy. Henry declares himself old enough to go. Roland is mad because he knows he's not old enough to go. He pointed out that it's not fair his little sister gets to go. He's older than she is!"

Regina chuckles softly and touches her own belly with maternal concern. "She wouldn't be going if there were any way for me to separate myself from her without risking the end of her life before it's even begun." She places a neatly folded stack of clothing in a large heavy wooden trunk.

Husband and wife look up expectantly at the sound of a quiet knock on the open door to their bedroom.

"I hope no one's going to tell me that I'm not old enough to go." Her father jokes.

Regina's eyes widen in surprise. "Daddy, I thought you were going to stay here with the boys."

King Henry smiles patiently. "You made that decision without consulting me, my girl. I've spoken with Snow, Emma, and Little John. The boys will be well looked after. I'm going with you. It will be nice to see what remains of home. And don't you go thinking for one second that I'm going to risk missing the birth of my granddaughter. I'm an old man, Regina. Chances are, if she does have any younger siblings yet to be thought of, by the time they arrive, I won't be here to see it. Hers will be the only birth I'm likely to have a chance to be present for."

Regina scowls in response to the reminder of his age, but then, on second thought she offers him a rare, and genuine, look of contrition. "I apologize Daddy. That was thoughtless of me. I didn't even stop to think that you might like to see home again. And, of course, you are welcome to come along if all the traveling won't be too much for you. Neither of us knows what we're likely to face when we get there, but I'm still hoping we make it back before she arrives. Childbirth is never easy, but it is infinitely easier, not to mention, safer in this world."

"Regina, dear, if I thought for one minute, I could talk you out of going, I would. Especially given your current condition. Since we both know that's not going to happen, if you can endure all the travel and whatever unknown things await our arrival, so can I."

"Alright then. You better pack a trunk. You know what sorts of things to bring along. When you're ready, Robin will carry it downstairs for you."

Robin can't help but cringe mildly. "If I may make a request. Please allow me to carry the trunk downstairs empty, and then I will help you carry your things down to it. I wish I had thought about that before Regina started packing her own trunk. With all that heavy Enchanted Forest attire inside; yards and yards of royal garb, I don't relish the idea of carrying the trunk down that spiral staircase. Be a sport will you, Henry. Save my back!"

Henry nods agreeably while his daughter looks at her own trunk thoughtfully.

"I didn't think of that, Robin. I'll just magic it down the stairs."

Robin's eyes go wide in alarm. "Oh no you won't, milady! Not with the way your magic has been behaving lately! That 80-pound truck you're packing will go rolling end over end down the stairs, steamroll one of our boys and put a hole in the barn wall if it doesn't go crashing out a second story window and land squarely on top of Will Scarlett's head!"

Regina bites her lower lip to refrain from objecting irritably. She'd like to, but as much as she hates to admit it, the truth is that the possibility for such a calamity does exist. Late pregnancy is most definitely taking its toll on her magical prowess.

* * *

**The Enchanted Forest**

**Almost Seventeen Years into The Future**

Determined, the brunette makes her way back up the hidden staircase. Half of her feels that her cousin is wrong. She has no right to wear these things. And yet, the other half feels strengthened, emboldened as if she can somehow draw courage and strength from mere velvet and leather; as if the fabrics had been magically imbued.

"Ridiculous!" She chastises herself. "Clothes don't make the woman, and even to think for a second that their previous owner drew her unshakable courage and determination from some magical enchantment is no less than an insult to her memory.

She stomps up the stairs and forces herself to approach the marble crypt she's been avoiding since her arrival here. Black marble with generous veins of white and silver running through it is covered heavily in dust. Bending slightly at the waist, she exhales gently, blowing the sterling nameplate clean.

She places her hands against the cold slab and leans heavily on her palms. Before proceeding any further, she closes her eyes as she lifts her chin to the ceiling above, almost as though she's praying. Summoning up the magical strength to break the seal is no trouble at all. For her, it's child's play. Summoning up the will and the nerve to disturb her mother's final resting place is another matter altogether. She inhales deeply and wills herself not to cry as her stomach ties itself up in knots. She shakes her head, opens her eyes, and softly stomps her foot in determination.

Pushing herself past the point of return, she magically breaks the seal on the crypt and lifts the lid; making sure to lower its safely to the floor before she dares to allow herself to look upon the exquisitely preserved remains of Regina Alicia Covarrubia Mills-Locksley.

One look at her mother's pale olive skin, her dark hair, and the elegant dress her father had insisted his lady be laid to rest in, and Norah can feel the tears she did not want to cry falling. She brushes them away angrily lest they should stain the soft, almost icy, lavender colored silk that her father had said her mother loved so much but seldom would allow herself to wear.

Being as gentle as she possibly can, Norah reaches in and removes two precious items that her dad said his wife's body couldn't be left to eternal slumber without. Claiming the stolen treasures, she pauses to take a deep breath and steady her hands before removing the protective plastic cap from the end of a syringe. Careful not to look too long at her mother's face, she uses tender hands to locate a vein in the back of her mother's cold lifeless right hand. Wishing that the dress wasn't long sleeved, and that she didn't have to risk damaging one of the tapered jewel encrusted sleeves to get to the softer, more supple, tissue of a forearm, she inserts the syringe as gently as possible and then because her mother has no pulse, she uses magic to draw blood into the reservoir.

Having all she needs, she returns her mother's hands to their folded position and gently smooths her skirt, paying particular attention to the pockets she has disturbed before returning her sad blue eyes to Regina's face.

"I'm sorry Mom." She hangs her head in shame and whispers softly. "It's my fault you're here, and now I'm robbing you, but If this works, I promise you'll still have these." She chuckles softly as she wipes away stubborn tears that refuse not to fall. "And you can yell at me all you want. I promise I won't complain."

* * *

 **Author's Note** : Keep reading! Ya'll know I love her too much to let Regina go!!

* * *

**Storybrooke** , **Maine**

**Present Day**

David brings horses for the merry men and the queen's freshly polished black and silver carriage from the stables. As Robin escorts first his wife, and then his mother inside, Henry and Roland step forward, unhappy as they are to be left behind, and say warm if somewhat cranky goodbyes. Before stepping into the carriage, himself, Robin gestures toward the open door deferring to his father-in-law, allowing the older man to enter first, out of respect.

While they settle in, Snow steps up to the carriage door and reaches for Regina's hand. "Don't worry about the boys. They'll be fine. Stay safe, take care of each other, and come home soon."

Regina nods, and before she steps away, Robin gently places a magic bean in Snow's upturned palm.

Lined up like a traveling processional with a few merry men on foot at the head of the line and on horseback at the rear, they stand at the ready in the center of Main Street. Snow passes the bean off to Emma who takes up her place on one side of the street. Hugging Roland from behind, she then passes the bean to her son. Henry, in turn, steps to the other side of the street, making sure he's clear of traffic before tossing the magical key to another world into the air.

A portal opens, and as the line starts to move through, a significant number of the residents of Storybrooke wave farewell. Their waving sons are the last people Regina and Robin see before vanishing from sight.

* * *

**The Enchanted Forest**

**Almost Seventeen Years into The Future**

Norah returns to her friends. Stepping up to the heavy stone table between the pair of them, she finds that her cousin has already arranged and lit the five white pillar candles in a loose circle on the floor around the table. In the center of the table, standing at the ready, she finds the mortar and pestle and the thin-bladed ceremonial dagger. Inside the large wide-mouthed mortar, a sprig of Cyprus, yarrow root, a bay leaf, and a pinch of sage and rosemary are already waiting for her.

Laying her pilfered items out on the table, she says more for J.J.’s benefit than Eliana's, "Make sure you're touching me. If this works, I don't want either of you to get left behind."

She feels a hand come to rest soundly on either shoulder, as Eliana inspects the items she chose. She immediately understands the significance of the diamond wedding band, but not the three remaining objects. Questioning softly, she points to each item in turn. "An apple?"

Norah nods but it's J.J. who answers. "Sort of synonymous with your aunt, I would imagine."

Eliana nods even as she squints. "Yes, I understand the reference, but what's it supposed to represent?"

"It's the fruit of all knowledge and wisdom." He answers softly.

Eliana nods, catching on as Norah slices the apple, adding several pieces and a few of the seeds to the mortar. "It came from one of her trees in Storybrooke. Dad keeps the weirdest things."

The redhead points again. "A silver pocket watch? We don't need a talisman for time."

"Not what it's for. Open it. There's a small painted image of Aunt Regina in there. Then, read the inscription on the back."

Eliana squints again.

Norah responds without needing to look up from her task to see the look on her cousin's face to know it's there. "Not your aunt. Mine. Well technically, a great aunt. She was Papa's sister. Mom was her namesake."

Eliana fumbles with the clasp on the antique timepiece until it is open, and she stares at the minuscule and badly faded painted image that once held what must've been surprisingly good detail of a young woman who bore an obvious resemblance to her brother. She was different than her namesake, with sharper features, but still a beauty. Eliana closes the pocket watch and turns it over in her hand to find the inscription. "You're no bunny until somebunny loves you."

"Aunt Regina died years before my mom was even born. She gave the watch to Papa with its silly inscription, and according to him, Mom became fascinated with it when she was just an infant. I guess she thought it was pretty. Papa said she would scream all night long, throw tantrums until he would take out his watch and let it spin on its chain in the candlelight above her cradle. She got a little older and a few years later, if he had to leave the palace on business, especially if he was going to be gone overnight, she would refuse to let him leave her sight until he gave her his watch. She always gave it back to him once he returned to the palace, but he said it drove Grandmother crazy. She thought it was ludicrous for him to entrust such a valuable item to a toddler. But apparently Mom never broke it or lost it, and she was inconsolable without it. Grandmother couldn't understand why she wouldn't play with a doll or a toy like a normal little princess. Papa said that he thinks what made Cora the angriest about it was that, even as a toddler, Mom would hide the watch and refuse to tell her where it was."

Eliana chuckles as she nods. "I swear, I can almost see the tiny pint-sized version of your mother doing exactly that. She would have been glaring up at Grandmother defiantly, 'No, you can't have it. Daddy gave it to me!' Oh, Cora must've been livid!"

Norah nods. "The way Papa would tell it. I'm surprised Mom made it to adolescence without being thrown into a dungeon!"

Eliana gently places the watch in the mortar "Okay, you've got talismans for love, innocence, and wisdom. The only one left is courage. However, I'm not sure I understand how a syringe full of blood is going to remedy that."

"Are you kidding? Before she died, Mom wielded both light and dark magic. They were both in her blood, and sometimes having both in her blood caused her agony. Daddy said sometimes the pull between the two tormented her, but she never once quit, gave in, or surrendered. If that's not courage, then I don't know what is."

Eliana nods agreeably. "I think that's all we need except for the spell. I tried. If you want raw power, I'm your girl, but I'm not too good at that touchy-feely artsy rhyming couplet gibberish.

Norah chuckles softly and elbows J.J. in the ribs before he can say whatever she knows he's about to say. "It's okay. I brought one with me."

"You did?"

"Sure, it was easy. I just looked them up and then pulled bits from both the spells to summon the dead, and commune with an ancestor, and then I added a reversal for the spell to call a lost witch."

Eliana raises an eyebrow. "You reversed the spell to call a lost witch?"

"Well sure. We don't want her to come to us. We wanna go to her. So, I just flipped it upside down… Or around backward… Or inside out… Whatever, you know what I mean."

"Okay, Super witch. We're ready when you are."

Norah opens her palm and when she finds the wound there still seeping faintly, she holds it over the mortar, only to pause momentarily and trot over to the corner of the room to retrieve her bow and quiver. Shouldering both, she returns and each of her friends places an arm around her waist.

Quietly, making sure to enunciate clearly, she begins to chant; knowing that Eliana will join in once she's got it down.

_We call forth through all space and all time_

_With the wisdom and power of our family's line._

_Be she far or be she near,_

_Take us to the one held dear_

_So that our warning, she will hear._

After squeezing a few drops of her own blood into the mortar, Norah links an arm through JJ's and then looks to Eliana. "Did you at least leave a note when you snuck out of the house."

The older girl shakes her head. I don't have to leave a note, Nor. Daddy is a god, and he may not know where I am every single second of every day. But when he realizes that I have disappeared, he will tune in and come find me. He'll be pissed, but he will come find me, especially if he senses that I need him."

Norah grimaces. "Okay, but I think you should have given him at least some warning. I don't exactly relish the idea of having the pissed off god of the underworld coming after us once he finally realizes that you've taken off, and he decides to use his power to spy on you."

"Oh, like your dad is going to be any happier than mine."

"No, but my dad doesn't literally shoot flames out of the top of his head!"

"That's nothing to worry about. He'll stop. All I have to do is kiss him on the cheek."

Shaking her head, Norah joins their wounded hands once again. "Okay goddess, do your thing."

Eliana closes her eyes and turns the majority of her focus inward. Sparing only enough to join in when her cousin repeats –

_We call forth through all space and all time_

_With the wisdom and power of our family's line._

_Be she far or be she near,_

_Take us to the one we hold dear_

_So that our warning, she will hear._

The girls pause briefly before repeating.

_We call forth through all space and all time_

_With the wisdom and power of our family's line._

_Be she far or be she near,_

_Take us to the one we hold dear_

_So that our warning..._

Norah senses the convergence of power welling up between her and Eliana even before the blinding sunburst of light engulfs the three of them. When it dissipates, they are nowhere to be seen. The mausoleum is once again empty of all sentient life.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Enchanted Forest**

**Present Day**

Regina, Robin, and company; don't travel more than a mile are two beyond the portal's entry point before they both notice that they are in the wrong forest.

"You did tell Emma and Henry both that we intended to travel to Sherwood before proceeding on to Elyria."

Regina nods adamantly. "Yes, of course, and I'm quite certain they understood that." She looks out the window of the carriage. "but this is most definitely not Sherwood." The Dark Palace is not more than a half hour's drive from here, Robin."

So, what happened? Why are we here?"

"I don't know why. And it doesn't really matter. We're here now. I guess we're just in for a longer trip than we thought."

Robin opens the door and leans out slightly. Turning his face to the sky and the trees overhead, he gauges the time according to the position of the sun. "No, we're not. At least not today, anyway. It'll be nightfall soon. We have no idea what's gone on here in our absence or what might have changed. "I'm not taking you over rough terrain in the dark; especially not knowing what lies ahead. We stop at the Dark Palace tonight. We'll mind the horses, get food, relax, try to sleep, if possible and start out again at first light." He whistles for the carriage to stop and when it does, he gets out momentarily and has a quiet conversation with Alan, who is driving, and a few of the other merry men.

While they spread the word among the group, he climbs back into the carriage and in very short order their journey is underway again only to stop twenty minutes later when one of the mounted men rides back to the carriage after scouting ahead.

"Sorry Robin, but I'm afraid there's trouble ahead. Not far, not more than 75 yards off the path, there's a clearing. It looks like an execution squad, maybe a witch-hunting party." He glances at Regina without feeling the need for a direct comment. "Do you want to hang back."

Robin grunts with extreme displeasure. "Percival, what I'd like to do is turn back and go home to Storybrooke and forget we were ever here. Seeing as how that's not going to bloody happen…" He takes a moment to think it over. "Tie up the horses. Everybody out of the carriage. Be quiet and stay close. We can't just let innocent people be murdered."

He quietly helps them out of the carriage before readying his bow. Stepping up between his wife and his mother, he whispers. "You two stay with me. I want both of you right here at all times, no more than a stone's throw away. Understood?"

Beatrice hums with anxiety while Regina nods quietly and reaches for her father's hand as they creep through the forest along with their merry entourage of thieving bandits.

As told, nearly 75 yards off the path, they crouch behind trees and shrubs, pushing leaves and foliage out of the way to behold a gruesome scene.

A hunting party of ½ dozen men prepares to hang two women who are forcibly seated on horseback beneath an ancient oak with nooses around their necks. One is older; well into middle age with hair that's going gray at the temples, while the other is tall and young, entirely too young, with skin as pale as milk and flaming red hair.

Passing sentence on the pair of them, a lean man with a bad complexion and eerily pale blue eyes declares them to be in defiance of the law against undertaking the practice of witchcraft and announces that they be put to death forth width.

Robin whistles the call of the gray mourning dove, secretly announcing his intent, and one of his cohorts understands and whistles back to him, answering with the sound of a cardinal somewhere off to his left.

The instant the horses are smacked on their hindquarters they bolt. The women drop like swinging burlap sacks full of grain; their weight pulling their hanging ropes tight around their necks and Robin fires, aiming for the rope six inches above the older woman's head.

His arrow slices through the air beautifully, severing the rope and sending the startled woman plummeting to the ground below even as he realizes that the shot that freed the redhead came just a fraction of a second before his from somewhere off to the right, rather than from the left as it should have.

The hunting party bellows in panic. The man with the pale blue eyes shouts, "Ambush!" and he's the first to turn and flee while the other five make at least a minimal effort to hold their ground until arrows are flying in all directions and it is painfully clear that although they cannot see their attackers, they are greatly outnumbered. They escape into the trees moving away from Robin and the merry men. When it is apparent that they are not going to double back, Robin rushes into the clearing on winged feet with his wife scarcely more than a few inches behind him. He kneels beside the frightened sobbing woman and removes the severed rope from around her neck with strong but gentle hands.

"Shh. You're alright. It's over." He quickly frees her bound hands. "No one's going to hurt you." He removes her blindfold. "You're safe now. Are you hurt? Can you stand?" He reaches for her aware of movement in his peripheral vision, as the woman before him stares transfixed and trembling at the sight of Regina.

Regina bends slightly at the waist offering her hand, and without explanation, the woman is suddenly on her feet and fleeing blindly into the trees; screaming as if her flesh were on fire.

Robin squints in confusion as the merry men gather around. "Well, that was odd."

"No, it wasn't," Regina says drolly. "You may have saved her, but she ran from me. People here don't know that I've changed."

Robin squints on the verge of saying something, but he's cut short as the young redhead is heard bellowing belligerently.

"What the hell took you so long?" She shouts blindly in the general direction of a vaguely familiar young man and a pretty brunette with a quiver at her back.

The frightened angry redhead risks the bit of magic necessary to untie the knotted rope around her wrists and removes the noose from around her own neck before she yanks off her own blindfold. "Did you have to drop me on my ass?" She demands to know even before she is fully conscious of the fact that she has an audience of more than just two.

Robin stares at the girl with the oddly familiar quiver slung over her shoulder as she apologizes with a hint of fear and hostility in her own voice. "I'm sorry! It was the best I could do under the circumstances."

Regina squints, staring at the redhead who is still sitting on the ground, undeniably aware that there's something boldly familiar about her. Even though she knows it can't be, she somehow can't quite stop herself from questioning incredulously, "Zelena?"

In the next instant, Robin's wife is stunned into immobility when the redhead's gaze slides her way, and then without warning the girl in the blue cloak is on her feet, crying out, "Aunt Regina!" and hurling herself into Regina's ill-prepared embrace. "Oh my god! It worked! It worked! I can't believe it worked! Yes, I can! Oh, Norah! You're a genius! You did it! You did it!"

Half of her words are shouted in Regina's ear, but before the confused queen can respond, the redhead has abandoned her and is holding hands with her friends; and bouncing on the balls of her feet in unrestrained joy.

Robin, Regina, Beatrice, and Henry, along with all the merry men witness the three of them dancing around, laughing like loons and they have no idea what to make of it.

While the brunette, and the male holding her hand, stare in absolute wonder, Regina and Robin stare back; beyond curious.

"Robin!" Regina exclaims; suddenly struck with the realization that she's seen the brunette before. "Robin… it's her!"

Robin squints and rubs the back of his neck in confusion. "What are you on about, love?"

Regina sighs impatiently and whispers, "You remember. The new addition to Henry's storybook right before I came back from New York. The one with the illustration of us in the nursery and the mystery girl. That's her, Robin. She's the girl in the picture."

Robin stares transfixed until the redhead suddenly remembers her near demise and demands, "Hey Nor, you never answered my question! What the hell took you so long!" She rubs her own slender neck, tenderly fingering rope burn. "You cut it kind of close there, cousin!"

Mesmerized by the sight of the infamous queen and her equally renowned husband, the brunette answers distractedly. "Sorry for the rough landing, El. I wanted to do something sooner. I wanted to start a fire to distract them. I tried to start the fire before they spooked the horse, but that didn't work. It seems I don't have my magic. I had no choice but to shoot you down. Better a sore bum than a stretched neck."

The one called El nods in resignation and then squints with hostile incredulity. "What do you mean you don't have your magic? Why don't you have your magic?"

Tired of being yelled at, the brunette shrugs, and shouts back, her eyes still glued to Robin and Regina. "Oh… I don't know Eliana!" She gestures toward Regina's belly and growls in frustration. "Maybe I don't have my magic because… I haven't been born yet!"

While Norah's parent's mouths fall open in mind-numbing shock, Eliana glances at her aunt's belly and cringes. "Uh oh, oops! Yeah, see, I, I, I… I didn't think about that part!"

Norah cringes herself, and because it's already too late to soften the blow and she has absolutely no clue what else to do or say, she raises an eyebrow and tries hopefully, "Hi Daddy…"

* * *

**The Enchanted Forest**

**Present Day**

"I beg your pardon, Miss. What did you say?"

Norah squints. "I said, ‘Hi Daddy.’ And yeah, I know it's weird. Sorry about that."

Robin stares hard at the pretty brunette, shakes his head, and stares some more. Reaching out, he tentatively touches her shoulder, withdraws, and then does it again to motivate her to turn slightly so he can examine the quiver slung over her shoulder. Next, he reaches for his wife's hand, who is scarcely less thunderstruck than he. "Regina… She called me…"

Regina nods placing a hand on Robin's chest as much to comfort him as to reassure herself. "Yes, I know. I heard her."

"Is she serious?"

Norah nods quietly, earnestly

Eliana whispers, "Oh… She's serious alright.

Regina scowls, her eyes narrowing suspiciously.

Noting this, Robin experiences a moment of serious doubt himself and places a protective arm around Regina's middle, pushing her a step back.

"Ah come on, Daddy. I know it's really strange, but don't be like that. I promise, I'm a good witch, and even if I'm not, I'd hardly hurt myself; now would I?"

At a total loss for what to say or do next, Robin looks to his wife. "A little help here?" He whispers in bafflement.

Regina turns a discerning eye to both girls. Reaching out, she takes hold of both by their arms, forcing them to stand shoulder to shoulder and taking each of their chins in one of her hands, she turns their heads, studying their faces both straight on and in profile. She steadies them each with a calm but penetrating gaze. Well past the point when most anyone else would have flinched and turned away, the girls are still looking her in the eye. Next, she turns her gaze to Robin and studies his own face with a scrutiny that unnerves him because she's looking at him as though she's never seen him before. She turns her gaze back to the brunette, the one the redhead called Norah, and looks her over again taking in everything; the clothes, the weaponry, the hair, the complexion, her stance, her posture, the color of her eyes, her nose, her ears, the slope of her forehead, the slightly defiant set of her shoulders and jaw, the lazy tilt in her uncomfortable half-smile.

Regina turns to Robin and whispers quietly. "If this is magic, it's like none I've ever seen before."

"So, you're saying it's possible… She's telling the truth."

"Robin!" Regina chastises lightly. "After everything you've seen the last two years. You still need to ask me if it's possible? She certainly looks like she could be ours, and I can't think of a single reason why anyone would claim to be if it weren't true. And this one…"

She points to the redhead. "If you can look at her and tell me you don't see Zelena, when we get back home, I'm taking you to the optometrist."

Norah speaks up again, patiently offering further evidence; the kind that does not have to be seen or imagined. "He's got the lion tattoo on his wrist." She shrugs. "But more than a few people know about that. He also has a long scar on his left shoulder blade. He tried to break up a fight in his tavern before he met you. He got caught by a knife. And you…" She reaches out with soft tentative fingers and hesitantly touches the faint trace of the scar near Regina's mouth. "You fell off a bookshelf when you were two years old trying to climb up and steal the star off the top of a massive Christmas tree in someone else's palace. I forget whose. Grandmother was furious with you, but once he pulled you out from under the fallen tree and realized that you weren't more seriously injured, Papa just laughed, which only made grandmother even angrier."

Regina gently takes hold of the girl's hand and doesn't let go. "And you know this because?"

Norah smiles with a soft radiance and points to her grandfather. "He told me… Or he will tell me… Whichever. He said you wanted to see the star up close because it was so pretty, only once you held it in your hand you cried because up close, without all the candles on the tree to light it up, it wasn't nearly as dazzling."

"When does he tell you that story?"

"When I'm six; after I tried to decorate one of the apple trees in our backyard. I wanted to put sparklers on it, so it would be lit up like the Christmas tree in our living room. I nearly started a forest fire. Daddy got so mad! He turned all red and started stomping around grumbling, and Henry was laughing, and Roland told him he was being a Grinch."

Regina smiles and casts a curious glance Robin's way before turning her attention back to the girl. "Well, if you are here, that means you girls cast a time travel spell. Right now, in Storybrooke, Eliana is about ten months old. Please tell me, you girls weren't just dabbling."

"No, of course not, we wouldn't… Well, that's not true. We would. We have, but never with something this serious. We wouldn't just play around with something like this."

Regina nods. "That's G… Wait, I know that spell. If you two…"

Both Norah and Eliana shake their heads adamantly, trying to forestall the first sparks of angry disapproval.

"No, Aunt Regina." Eliana steps in. "Mum updated the spell years ago. She tried to do this herself. She tried to come here, or at least back to you"

"Wait a minute! It's not a good idea for us to know…"

"No, you have to. Please, you have to listen. It's really important. Aunt Regina, you have to go home… Now!"

Before either of the girls can say more, the ground beneath their feet starts to tremble in ominous warning. a dark viscous portal begins to open up in the grass a few feet away and Norah flinches as she whispers, "Uh oh!"

The merry men draw their bows as a precaution and stand as still as statues. When the portal is open wide enough; the dark lord of the underworld rises and strides through; bellowing with his head engulfed in blue flames, "Eliannnna!"

Eliana scowls in frustration. She had hoped she would have longer than this before her father's expected arrival.

Hades scarcely makes eye contact with anyone else, and although he says nothing, he does do a double take when he catches sight of Regina, it's a fleeting thing; almost as if he half expected to see her. Still, he grabs his daughter's arm and immediately reverses directions, intending to march back the way he came, forcing her to walk with him lest she be dragged along.

"Dad, wait!"

"I will not wait!"

Eliana digs in her heels, quite literally. "Dad!" I can't leave! Norah needs me. She won't be able to get back home without me!"

Hades aggressively points his thumb over his shoulder at Regina and Robin. "They are her parents. She is their problem. You are mine! And you are coming home with me right now, even if I have to bind your powers and knock you over the head!"

Eliana leans back defiantly on her heels making it even harder for her father to pull her in the direction he wishes. "Oh, now I'm a problem? A thorn in your side, is that it? Because you're no picnic! You never listen anymore! You haven't for a long time! Not since Mum died! It wasn't my fault, you know!"

"Nobody said it was your fault! When have I ever said that?" Hades roars.

"You don't have to say it. You act like it. You act like you hate me!"

"Don't be ridiculous! It's not your fault! I don't blame you. I blame her!" He points at Regina with blatant hostility. Sneering with disgust, he declares, "That's precisely why I don't want you hanging around with her tree-hugging, target-shooting progeny; and you damn well know it!"

Norah scowls hideously and stomps her foot as she loudly announces, "I've never hugged a tree in my life, but given half a chance, I'd tie you to one, cover you in sap, and leave you for the ants to feast on. You feckless tyrant!"

Still throwing flames from the top of his head, Hades releases his daughter's arm and marches with dark intent toward Norah; only to have Robin, Regina, some gray-haired woman he's never seen before, a king, and a forest full of merry men with drawn bows step in front of her.

Having recognized the adult version of his only son standing next to Robin's daughter, Little John growls murderously. "I don't give one bloody whit if you are a god, chum! You touch that lass, and you may take us all down with you but on the way, we will make you weep for your own bitch of a mum."

Hades eyes them all. Individually, the only one who possesses even a small chance of doing him real harm is Regina. He watches her step up beside Robin, hands at the ready, light magic glowing in the palm of the right while dark magic coils ominously in the left. Neither is expended, but she's ready. He can't blame her. For his own child, he would scarcely do less than give his all, which is precisely what she's letting him know she's prepared to do. As a group… Well, even though he would prevail, it isn't worth the time it would take him to recover, nor is it worth testing the strength of his daughter's love. He might never earn forgiveness for harming the thief's royal brat. For reasons that surpass his understanding, the two of them are attached to one another; attached like a barnacle attaches itself to the hull of a luxurious ocean liner.

Opting to let the moment pass, he turns on his heel and stalks back toward his portal reclaiming his hold on his daughter's forearm.

Once the dark god's attention is primarily on his own daughter, Robin prepares to quietly but angrily hiss out the side of his mouth, intent on telling his wife that she needs to get behind him immediately. But before he can say a word, she either senses his intent or her own precarious position and, though clearly frustrated by the necessity, she does step behind him without being told. But she does not lower her defenses. She's careful to position her hands in such a way as to neither harm him nor impede his ability to fire the arrow that is squarely aimed at his target's center mass.

Norah calls out in anxious farewell. "Don't worry about me El. I'll get home somehow. I'll see you soon."

As Hades forces his daughter to step into the portal ahead of him, he tosses back over his shoulder, "Don't count on it!" and then he's gone as quickly as he arrived.

There's a collective sigh of relief from all except Norah who scowls in aggravation and turns to her parents. We have to do something about him. It's not fair. I mean, I know he loves her, but he's just… mean. Ever since…"

Regina lowers her hands and, based on what she's just heard, takes a guess at what comes next. "Your Aunt Zelena… Is she dead? In your time?"

Norah nods solemnly.

"Okay. Well, I'm not sure what, if anything, we can do about it, but we'll figure it out. It's best we do not stand around out here talking about it." She turns to Robin. "Back to the carriage?"

Robin nods without a word and the group quietly retraces it steps with two more amongst its ranks. As they make their way back to the carriage Little John drops a warm arm around J.J. shoulders and grins, whispering "I think you and I should have ourselves a chat, lad."

J.J. nods but shoots his girl a look that doesn't go unnoticed by any one of the trio of parents.

The foursome riding in the carriage squeezes together a little tighter to make room for Norah who chooses to seat herself between Robin and her grandfather. When everyone is settled, and the journey is once again underway, no one knows exactly where to begin, and the interior of the carriage is uncomfortably silent until Regina makes a soft barely audible noise indicating self-disgust.

"I'm sorry Robin. I promised."

While the other three people in the carriage are clearly at a loss, Robin's comprehension is immediate. "You promised you wouldn't, and you didn't. But, under the circumstances, if you had, I would have understood."

"I didn't even think about it."

"I know. It was a reflex. And I'm glad for it, Regina. I'm hardly going to fault you for protecting our daughter."

"But I didn't." Regina hisses, angry with only herself. What I actually did was put her in danger, no matter how unintentional. Neither of us wanted it to happen, but if he had done something to her…" Regina gestures to the girl sitting at Robin's right and then touches her belly. "She still would've survived. But if he had decided to target me instead, we would have lost her."

She eyes her daughter uncomfortably, "Sorry."

Norah shakes her head and waves her hands with droll enthusiasm. "No, hey, I get it. I can literally die here. I'm still going to be fine as long as nothing happens to you."

Robin cringes as if her words cause him physical pain. "That may be true, but I'm not about to just stand by and let it happen. Neither is your mom. Still…", He turns to his wife. "if we get ourselves into a jam again, do me a favor, stay out of harm's way. Let me deal with it. I know you're used to taking point, but for once, as unnatural as it feels, will you just let me."

Regina rolls her eyes, but nods, and sighs heavily as she nudges what feels like a small foot out of its supremely uncomfortable position between two of her ribs and grouses, "I cannot wait for this to be over."

The four adults are momentarily shocked beyond words when unshed tears suddenly glimmer in the girl's eyes, and she pleads quietly. "Don't say that… Please. You don't know…"

"That's not what I meant," Regina says too quickly and sounding more severe than she wants to. Trying again, she softens her voice marginally, "I'm just uncomfortable, Norah. But that does not mean that I am sorry I'm uncomfortable. Okay?"

The girl nods quietly, offering a very slight smile.

"We came here by way of a magic bean," Regina says. Hoping that the necessary conversation that is in order will help ease the tension inside the carriage. "Only we were trying to get to Sherwood Forest on our way to Elyria. Somehow we wound up here."

Norah squints thoughtfully. "I know where you were trying to go. Dad told me the story. Or he will. We wanted to come to you in Sherwood Forest. But we were here… Uh… In the future, I mean. We were in the Enchanted Forest. I don't know why you're here. We weren't expecting to find you here. Unless… I don't know; do you suppose because we were already here when we cast the spell, magic just somehow altered your destination to bring us together?"

"Magic almost never works out quite the way you expect it to. That's why you have to be so careful with it."

"If it was us that caused the change, I'm sorry. That's not what we meant to do."

"Perhaps not, but it's a good thing it did happen that way. How exactly did Eliana's neck come to be in a noose?"

Norah cringes. "Well see, at first we didn't think the spell worked. We were in your vault. Here in the Enchanted Forest, only in the future, but when we arrived here in our past, we were standing outside your vault. So, we didn't think it worked. I thought that either we'd only managed to move that far, or maybe that there was some sort of enchantment to keep people other than yourself from practicing magic down there. For a few seconds, I thought maybe we had just been booted out. We were so disappointed that I guess we weren't paying attention. We were about to try to get back in, but we didn't know that when we appeared outside we'd been spotted. The witch hunters, they grabbed us both, but… Eliana's… Well, sometimes I don't know why we're friends. I mean, we're nothing alike but, we are friends. She's my best friend, but, Mom, she is such a girl! She was shrieking and screaming, basically making noise for the sake of making noise. She wasn't going to physically fight or struggle against the baboon that snatched her up. And when she gets scared, she goes straight for magic every time but because she's scared, things tend to go a little wonky. I told her not to do it. I mean they were witch hunters. No point proving their suspicions. But she was scared, so even though I was well within hearing range, I don't think she could hear me at that moment. She did what she did, and then they knew. J.J. is just so big and strong, they never got hold of him. There was three of them. The one that tried to grab him; I'm pretty sure J.J. cracked his skull. He knocked the guy down and stole his horse. I kicked and punched until I got free and J.J. picked me up and we went galloping after El. When we got to… that place…"

Norah shivers.

"I wanted to do something to distract them long enough to get her free in a less dramatic way. I still wasn't sure we had actually traveled back in time until I tried to sneak around and conjure a fireball to set a bale of hay on fire and I couldn't. So, I had no choice. I had to shoot her down. I couldn't let her die like that. Besides, Uncle Hades already hates me. Ever since Aunt Zelena died he's been impossible. He can't be reasoned with. Eliana thinks he hates her, but he doesn't. He's just miserable. He's always been overprotective, without her mom around he's just hyper-vigilant. He's so busy trying to hold onto her, that he's going to shove her right out the door. If she had died trying to help me do this, he would have my intestines cut out and burned before my lungs even quit working."

Regina shakes her head. "No matter what does or doesn't happen, you don't have to worry about that, Norah. Your father and I are never going to let that happen."

Robin concurs. "No, we most certainly aren't, but I need you to back up in the storytelling for just a moment. Did I understand correctly? You two girls were in your mother's vault?"

Norah frowns and nods. "Yes sir."

Robin raises a disapproving eyebrow. "She won't let your brothers in there except on extremely rare occasions and, even then, only with intense supervision. She doesn't even like my being in there when anything magical is taking place. So, I'm guessing you're not supposed to be in there either."

"Well… No sir." Norah pleads. “But Dad… It's really important."

Robin starts to speak again but Regina stalls him with a raised hand. "I keep that vault sealed with tremendously powerful magic. If the two of you were willing to risk the dangers of breaking in … Eliana said the same thing, that it was important. You keep hinting that there are things we don't know. So, tell us, what was so important? Because I fail to see how there could be anything important enough to risk the safety and welfare of either one of you. Whatever is going on, I'm sure it's not worth Eliana nearly hanging."

"I didn't let that happen!" Norah hisses quietly as she scowls, and color rises in her face.

Stalling her own mounting frustration, Regina forces herself to remain calm. "We know that. What you did was very courageous Norah, but it never should've been necessary. Does this have something to do with her mother's death? Because if you girls are trying to stop it from happening, Zelena wouldn't want that. She loves Eliana. She wouldn't want her daughter risking her own life just to save hers. No mother would. No decent mother would ever want that."

Norah squints and then raises an eyebrow before explaining in a whisper, "If that's true, you're probably going to be really mad at me because it isn't about Aunt Zelena." She stalls long enough for a deep breath. "It's about you." She eyes both her parents with anxiety; her gaze swiveling between the two of them.

"This is somehow about me?" Regina asks for the sake of clarity.

Norah nods. "I know we aren't supposed to be in there. We both do. But nothing has been right for a long time, and it's only getting worse. We had to do something. I'm tired of getting all my information about you secondhand… and I'm tired of watching Daddy miss you. As she wipes away hot tears of frustration, she sobs quietly. "Mom, you have to go home. You have to go back to Storybrooke… Now … please… You cannot be here. Not like this." She gestures toward Regina's belly.

"Norah," Regina starts slowly, quietly. "This happens every day. I'm not the first woman to ever be pregnant. And your father and I have discussed this. We're aware of the dangers. However, he and I, we're both stronger when we're together."

"No!" Norah says much louder than she meant to; startling the adults as she comes to her feet in the moving carriage. "Not this time. You have to go home, now…" When she stumbles as the carriage moves over uneven ground, Robin reaches out and catches her. Realizing her own mistake, she sits back down just as quickly as she rose. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to yell. It's just. You aren't listening! You have to listen! You have to go home … and go see a doctor." She gestures again toward her mother's swollen abdomen.

Regina and Robin each sit up a little straighter, their posture becoming rigid.

Instantly worried, Regina places a protective hand over her belly as Robin drops a comforting arm around their daughter's shoulders.

Still reining in rising emotions, Regina breathes quietly. "Norah, you're scaring your grandfather. If you're getting all your information about me secondhand and your dad is missing me…"

Norah locks eyes with her mother and nods miserably.

"I see." Regina breathes deeply. "How long do I have?"

"Not long."

As comprehension dawns, Regina eyes the suddenly mournful faces of both her husband and daughter.

Robin reaches for his wife's hand as a similar aggrieved look on her father's face, not to mention Beatrice's, provokes a response that none of them are expecting.

Scowling angrily at them, Regina announces. "You can all stop looking at me like that, and you can stop it right now! I am not dead yet! I won't have any of you acting like I am! So, Norah, pull yourself together. Stop dancing around it. It'll be easier if you just tell us. Tell us exactly what happens."

"I can't be born here. Not in this world. There's not enough medicine. There's not enough medical knowledge here. But, at home, in Storybrooke with a hospital, and doctors and the medical advancement of the 21st century, maybe they can stop it. They should be able to."

"What exactly is wrong? Are you born sick? Because, so far, all of your tests and your development have been normal."

Norah shakes her head in frustration. "No Mom. It isn't me. Well, actually it is me. When I'm born, I come out the wrong way. Something about not being turned."

"You're born breach?"

"No, not bottom first, I just wasn't fully turned. I somehow tried to come out shoulder first and it tore something inside you. They couldn't stop the bleeding. At least not here. Mom, if there's a chance they can stop it, even just one, you have to go home."

Already nodding and reaching for the door of the carriage, Robin agrees without a moment's hesitation. "We'll just put this little mission of ours on hold."

Norah shakes her head adamantly. "No Dad. You can't. You have to stay here. You've got to stop Nottingham."

Robin doesn't know whether to shake his head or nod, so he winds up doing one after the other. "I will. Later."

"No Dad. It has to be now."

"No, it doesn't. I am not missing your birth..."

Norah stalls him by placing both her hands in his. "Daddy, I know it's important to you. But not to me. Not really. What difference does it make if you miss the first few minutes of my life, as long as you're going to be here to love me; and if we can change it so that I get to keep Mom too…"

Robin shakes his head adamantly. "I wouldn't have been absent for your birth even before knowing there will be a problem. And certainly not now. I will not leave your mother alone knowing she could face death. We are going home."

* * *

**Storybrooke, Maine**

**Nearly 17 Years into the Future**

**The Villa**

"UGH! You are impossible!" Eliana screams at her father as she jerks her arm free of his grasp while hitting that shrill eardrum-piercing octave. Enraged, she stomps to the other side of the room to turn and face him where she blindly reaches out and throws the first thing she can get her hands on, a hurricane lamp, hand-blown and made of delicate Emerald colored glass. When it strikes the floor, it shatters into 1000 pieces and the oil in the reservoir ignites catching fire in the middle of an exquisite Persian rug.

Putting out the fire with nothing more than a wave of his hand, Hades sinks to his knees, instantly intent on collecting the broken pieces, no matter how minuscule. "How could you?" He roars. "Your mother loves this lamp!"

"No Dad! She loved the lamp… Past tense. She's gone Dad! She's gone, and she's never coming back. I'm still here. At least for now, but if you don't start paying attention, you're going to lose me too, because I cannot keep doing this. Norah needs me. If you don't let me go back … Daddy, I might lose her too."

"You'll be better off without her. She's always getting you into trouble."

Eliana growls in frustration. "That's not fair Daddy; and you know it! Norah Beatrice Locksley has never once gotten me into any kind of trouble that I wasn't perfectly capable of getting into on my own. She saved my life today. If you weren't so busy stomping around like some primordial cretin, you might have thanked her for that!"

"It would not have been necessary for her to save your life if you hadn't gone there in the first place!"

"Why did you even have to come? Everything was fine until you showed up!"

"I came because you called me! And what? You call literally getting your neck in a noose fine?"

"I didn't mean to call you! I was scared, that's all! Will you please forget about the damn glass and look at me!"

Hades balls his fist around broken shards of glass and rises to his feet, his own blood oozing between the clenched gaps of his fingers. "How dare you! How dare you speak to me in that manner! I am your father!"

"Then try acting like it!" Stop acting like my jailer! This house is not a prison and you are not a warden! I've never once seen Uncle Robin physically drag Norah anywhere against her will. Not even that time he totally lost his mind because she blew up Aunt Regina's Mercedes!" But you…" Still furious, she stomps over and roughly pries open his clenched fist, dismayed at the mess he's made of himself; she scatters the bloody broken shards of glass on the floor once again. "You think just because you're upset with me you can drag me around by my arm. You treat Ember better than you treat me sometimes!" She declares, referring to the now aged female puppy that once belonged to Cerberus. "Now, look what you've done! You've gone and hurt yourself. Daddy, you're bleeding!" She waves a hand, instantly healing his self-inflicted wound. She snaps her fingers and the broken shards of glass magically rise and reassemble themselves, the reformed hurricane lamp only slightly less than pristine, with a fine fracture line etched here or there

Losing some of his ire, Hades huffs, I just don't understand how you could cast that spell. It killed your mother! How could you do that? How could you put me through that again?"

Angry all over again, Eliana wails. "I didn't put you through it again. I'm not dead! And I don't understand how you could be against casting it! Mum knew it was dangerous. She knew the risks, and it was still that important to her. She wanted Aunt Regina back! She risked her life. She died trying to make it happen, and she took my little brother with her! After that kind of sacrifice, I don't understand how you could possibly refuse to move heaven and earth to bring Aunt Regina back. Not when it's what Mum wanted! You think I've disappointed you, that I've let you down by doing it. Well, by not doing it, I think you let Mum down, Daddy and if you don't let me go help Norah… If anything happens to her, I will never speak to you again!"

She vanishes from sight and a second later Hades hears his daughter's bedroom door slam hard enough to rattle windows.

* * *

**Enchanted Forest**

**Present Day**

When Robin half rises from his seat and opens the carriage door, Regina leans forward placing a hand on his knee. "What are you doing?"

"I'm getting out, Regina. I'm going to open the portal. We're going home, now."

"Hold off on that Robin."

"I will not."

Norah's gaze pivots with rapt wonderous curiously between her two parents. It's one thing to listen to her father tell stories about her mother. It's quite another to sit and observe the two of them interacting.

"Robin, I'm not in labor right this minute. We have time, however fleeting."

"I don't care. Did you hear her? Weren't you listening at all?"

"You know I was."

"Then how can you sit there so calmly, asking me to hold off a minute."

"Robin, the future isn't set in stone. Her being here proves that. If I got nervous every time somebody foretold of my possible death… Well, I'd never have a moment's peace. I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere right this minute. Hold off. Let's not open the portal in the middle of the forest. Apparently, Norah and Eliana got captured using magic regardless of the fact that they started out inside my vault with all its well thought out security measures. Can we at least make it to the relative security of the palace before you start opening portals? I promise, if I have a single contraction, you can open the damn thing wherever we are. But as long as I'm alright, can we not at least try to practice a little caution. I'm not due for nearly another month."

Robin shifts his weight and slowly returns to his seat. "Alright then, but if you feel anything, and by anything, I mean even indigestion, we're going home. I'm opening that portal and I don't give a damn where we are when it happens."

"I'll second that." Regina's father offers with feeling as Beatrice lends her own support with a quiet but emphatic nod.

Regina looks out the window. "We're still fifteen, maybe twenty minutes out. She turns her attention primarily back to her daughter. "Are witch-hunting parties common in the future?"

Norah offers a pained look to go along with her quiet nod. "It's worse there than here. All mages practice in secret. If they practice at all."

"And your point of origin for your trip was the Enchanted Forest, in your own time."

"Yeah… I mean yes, ma'am."

"The Enchanted Forest; not Storybrooke?"

"No. We left Storybrooke years ago. After Aunt Zelena died. Uncle Hades… Well…" Norah squints nervously. "See, he kind of lost it. When he couldn't bring her back, he had a meltdown. In a fit of grief and anger, he blew half the town off the map. Everybody scattered. People were blind with panic. Some were able to hide and stayed, some went through a portal back to the Enchanted Forest – like us - or beyond to Sherwood. A few people even crossed over the town line in a life or death moment. We lost some people too. Ms. Belle's Dad - Mr. French, King George, Mr. Glass, Gaston, Ms. Eudora, and Mr. Smee. They all died."

Regina frowns for the loss of the townspeople. "Why couldn't he revive her. "

"She wanted you back. Uncle Hades wouldn't help her do it. I don't know why. I only know he wouldn't. He can travel through time because he's a deity. So can Eliana, but because she's only half, and still underage, she needs the spell, at least for now. Especially if she wants to take anyone with her. Anyway, Aunt Zelena got pregnant a second time. Since Hades wouldn't help her, I guess she was trying to tap in and use the baby's powers to make the spell work without his help. I'm sure she must've thought she could handle it. I remember her being over the moon about that baby. if she had known - if she had thought just once that what did happen would happen, she wouldn't have done it. She wouldn't have risked it."

Norah pauses sadly. "As near as we could tell, she did successfully tap into the baby's power, but her body just couldn't handle it. She… "

Norah stops again uncomfortably. "I guess she… scattered… herself over multiple points in time. There was no way for Uncle Hades to go and collect her, much less revive her. And I know he said today that he blames you. Probably because she was trying to save you. But I think that's just what he tells everybody. He'd never admit it, but, deep down, I think he blames himself because he refused to help her and that's probably why he had his meltdown. He's mad at himself."

Regina sits up a little straighter, a mental storm brewing even as she nods thoughtfully. Starting out in little more than a whisper, her voice rises with each word. "That's a reasonable assumption, Norah, and very astute, but you're telling me that my sister literally blew herself up and scattered herself throughout time trying to get to me, and you girls cast that spell anyway!"

Norah squints acutely aware that she's in uncharted territory, and even the slightest misstep could make things infinitely worse. "I don't understand. You weren't this upset a few minutes ago."

"That was before my daughter told me that she did this with the full knowledge that she might blow herself up! How could you knowingly take such a foolish risk! I'm supposed to die giving you life, just so you can risk scattering yourself throughout history!"

Unsure what to do or say, Norah looks to her father who shakes his head and says more quietly, but no less adamantly, "Don't look at me. I'm with her."

"But, Dad, Mom… Eliana's not a mortal trying to tap into a god's powers. She is one – well, half one." Norah holds up her wounded palm. "We merged our powers to make it work."

Regina glares harshly. "Norah, you're a smart girl. I've seen that much already, so don't tell me it didn't occur to you that Zelena effectively did the same thing by tapping into her unborn child's power."

"Yes, but Eliana's body was designed to be a vessel for her power."

"Yes, but yours wasn't!"

And she isn't an unborn fetus. She knows how to control her power, Mom. She wouldn't overload me. She would never willingly hurt me. Honestly, it was worth the risk just to sit here and talk to you, never mind the rest of it, even if you are mad at me. Look, I promise, I don't do this sort of thing often, but I'm not going to apologize. I'm not sorry."

In response to the look of utter exasperation on his daughter's face, Henry tries unsuccessfully to stifle a quiet but involuntary snort of laughter.

Annoyed, her gaze swivels to him "I fail to see what's funny, Daddy!"

"Oh, I wouldn't say it's funny exactly, but it sure is entertaining to watch."

"You find this entertaining?" Regina snaps incredulously. "Your granddaughter just admitted that she cast a time-traveling spell with the full understanding that she might blow herself up… And you find it entertaining!"

"No dear. Not at all. Just her lack of contrition and your response to it. Tell me, Regina, does she you remind you of anyone?"

"That's not funny, Daddy!"

"No, I expect it's not."

Norah turns her gaze to Robin once more. "Dad? What are they talking about?"

Robin forces himself to keep a straight face and answer as somberly as possible. "I believe the point your grandfather is so skillfully trying to make is… Like mother, like daughter."

Beatrice chuckles merrily when an astonished Norah happily declares, "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me."

Regina scowls as she folds her arms over her chest. "No, it's not."

Norah squares her shoulders. "Is too."

Regina fixes a hard stare on her. "Promise me, once you get home, no more time travel!"

Norah stares back just as seriously. "You gotta deal, long as you promise not to go and die on me."

Regina sighs in resignation. "You're going to give me nightmares; aren't you?"

Norah lifts one shoulder in a carefree shrug. "I hope so."


	8. Chapter 8

* * *

**Enchanted Forest**

**Present Day**

When the carriage slows, Robin and Regina glance toward the window to find that Percival has approached once more. As he says, "Not to be the bearer of bad news yet again…" Regina holds up a hand to stall his words as the acrid scent of burning hay and charred flesh makes its way to her. Swallowing hard against the immediate urge to wretch, she leans across the seat with Beatrice leaning back to make room for her as she peers out the window, her gaze traveling beyond Percival's shoulder to the insidious black smoke rising against the gloaming sky.

Percival begins again with a note of apology in his words. "It would appear that…"

In the distance, a terrified scream rises in the smoke-filled twilight and Regina cuts him off yet again, her voice hard and unforgiving. "The palace is under siege."

Percival nods solemnly, "It would seem so, Your Majesty."

Opening the door, Robin simultaneously reaches into his pocket as an explosion sounds and a woman wails while an inglorious ball of flame rises into the sky, a malevolent kaleidoscope of red, orange, and yellow.

Aware of his intent, Regina places a hand on his forearm.

Aware of the argument that's about to occur, he answers sharply, "You're going home, now!"

"Like hell I am! There are people in there, Robin!"

"And we'll do what we can for them. You are going home, and you're taking her with you. He motions toward their daughter. "Both of her!"

Simultaneously, his women answer him in three-part harmony. Beatrice says, "That may not be your wisest course of action, boy", while his wife laughs darkly, "Don't be stupid," and his daughter offers vehemently, "Daddy you and the boys are gonna need all the help you can get."

Stepping hastily out of the carriage, Robin shakes his head adamantly as he insistently reaches for his wife's hand.

"Robin, I can walk through that palace in my sleep. I know it better than anyone else out here, and that includes Daddy." Regina says stubbornly as she unwillingly thrusts her hand into his and steps from the carriage.

"I'll just have to make do with whatever assistance your father can offer. You ladies are going home."

Beatrice waits for Norah to exit the carriage ahead of her, and once on solid ground, she crosses her arms over her chest. "This is not my home, and neither is Storybrooke!"

"And since when do you break and enter without an exit strategy?" Regina glares at her husband. "You go in there with what minimal knowledge you have of the place and you're going to get yourself killed."

"You're assuming I can get into the place." Robin answers hotly.

"Oh, I can get you in."

He shakes his head vehemently. "No magic!"

The queen laughs bitterly." I don't need magic. Follow me, boys."

She waits impatiently for the merry men to comply and rolls her eyes when they all turn to Robin with blatant looks of uncertainty."

Supremely unhappy with the situation, but realizing that it is, indeed, his best course of action, Robin growls in acquiescence. "You heard the lady, gents."

Regina waits for them to nod and then holds her head high and lifts the heavy silk hem of her ankle-length A-line skirt and, as she trods with determination back the way the carriage came, following the wheel ruts for nearly ¼ mile before turning left and keeping to the outskirts of the royal grounds, she halts and holds a finger to her lips, signaling for silence as she catches the sound of footsteps nearby.

Realizing that they are coming from the other side of the low stone wall to her left, she crouches as low as she possibly can, and holds her breath. Eyeing her closely, Beatrice, her father, and the dutiful band of would-be thieves follow suit as she recognizes the unseen but very familiar sound of troops marching on the other side of the wall. She knows instinctively that they're not her troops. She would recognize the familiar tell-tale sounds of the armor her black knights wear. What she hears is something different. What she hears is someone different. She seethes angrily as she waits until they pass by before proceeding onward, and when she's moving again, she's twice as quiet as before.

With eyes alert for any sign of trouble, and bows at the ready, they follow. They follow the queen around until she reaches the westernmost side of the palace and the rear entry; commonly only used by palace servants and staff members. Moving as stealthily as a cat, Robin peers over the low wall and when he sees no cause for alarm, he reaches for the gate, quickly drawing a quiet hiss of animosity from his wife.

Silently, but irritably, he arches an eyebrow high and shrugs, demanding to know what her intent is if it is not to enter via the back gate.

Regina motions with quiet hostility as she bypasses the gate, proceeds another 80 feet to the right, and stops in front of the third stone pillar in the wall where she appears to lean, almost casually, against it briefly before a hidden door opens to reveal a dark, narrow passageway.

She steps in with confidence born of familiarity and makes it all of ten feet before Robin sidesteps and brushes past her, scraping dust and cobwebs off the brick and mortar wall with his shoulder as he goes. "Will you just…"

"Shh!" Not bothering to be gentle, she covers his mouth with her hand as it occurs to him that he's standing on a slight incline.

When she raises an eyebrow in warning and removes her hand, he whispers much more quietly, "Are we going underground?"

"We are," She answers with mild irritation. "And no one will know we're here if we are all very quiet. I know you want to take the lead, but I have one question for you, thief."

When he raises an eyebrow, she smirks. "Do you know where you're going?"

"My guess would be to the end of the dark tunnel."

"Stand here. Do not move until I tell you to." She stares at him with intent and waits impatiently for his nod. Only when she has it does she reach out and remove an unlit torch from its utilitarian spiral sconce on the wall to her right. Kneeling, she retrieves a small stone from the earthen floor and tosses it gently; sending it skipping ahead until it ignites a deadly burst of flame that extinguishes itself as quickly as it appeared and causes her entourage to take a collective step back. Helping herself to a second stone, she approaches the incendiary place in the floor, locates it in the dark, steps back, pushing Robin and the others a safe distance back before she ignites the flame again; this time, carefully using it to light her torch.

Addressing not only Robin but the rest of the group as well, she quietly announces in a dour tone, "This place is magically enchanted against intrusion. If you do not wish to die a wretched death, you will step where I step. You will touch nothing. Follow the person in front of you. Along the way, other torches will become available. I will pass them back."

They precede quietly for more than ten minutes with Regina leading the way around well-laid booby traps comprised of more fireballs, razor sharp spikes imbedded in the floor and walls, trap doors that open when inadvertently stepped upon and deliver their victims to - only Her Royal Highness knows where – and one swinging 50-pound stone battering ram that dropped from the ceiling suspended by ropes, and would've taken Robin's head clean off his shoulders if she hadn't shoved him out of the way just in the nick of time, and then, quick as lightning, used her torch to burn through those ropes to keep it from rebounding.

Half annoyed, and half thrilled to be alive, Robin grins and whispers, "Bit of overkill, mi'lady, especially considering you can throw flames from the palms of your beautiful hands?"

Listening in directly behind him, it's his daughter who quietly answers, "Actually Daddy, given the fact that the place is now under siege, maybe not."

Little John smirks. "Clearly they didn't come in this way. If they had we'd be stepping over maimed corpses."

Alan answers, "Better this way than through the front door. I think I like the odds just a wee tiny bit more."

Robin realizes they are all getting a bit antsy the same moment that he feels the slope of the floor changing again. They're moving at an incline again, slowly ascending from the depths of the earth. Understanding they are near the end, he steps sideways carefully puts his back to the wall, and only relaxes when he realizes that he hasn't triggered any forgotten death trap.

Regina gently nudges him aside and deposits her torch in one of a trio of unused sconces before pressing an ear to the wall that would appear to dead-end their journey.

Robin holds his breath and quietly pats the air, effectively silencing his whispering comrades.

When Regina's hands slide open the concealed panel in the wall to reveal a discreetly placed latch, he places a hand on her shoulder and quietly assumes the lead. Before facing the latch, he whispers for her ears only, "Anymore surprises to worry about?"

She shakes her head almost imperceptibly and whispers back, "Should be fine as long as no one's in the room. I don't hear anyone?"

"What's on either side of the door; left and right?"

"Shelves… Books, and a heavy globe to the right, if things haven't been moved around."

"Freestanding or inset?" Robin asks in reference to the shelves.

"Inlaid; nearly all the way around the room, except for the window, floor to ceiling," Regina answers without the need for further prompting.

"And the window?"

"It'll be on your left, let's in the northern light."

He crouches low and readies his bow. He listens hard. When he's convinced he can hear no one and nothing beyond the wall, he nods just once, a quick bob of his chin, nothing more, and his wife releases the latch.

He nudges the door slowly open, balancing on the balls of his feet and peering in around the corners before hissing, "Stay."

Keeping low, out of sight, he darts into the room and zeros in on the window. He uses the drapes to shield his body from the sight of the soldiers outside in the northern garden even as he snaps the drapes shut. With that done he motions her forward, and she eases through the narrow opening with their group following single file, but close behind.

When he steps into the room, the elderly king looks confused. "My library!" He whispers in astonishment, eyeing dusty neglected old tomes as if they are sorely missed loved ones. "You put a secret exit in my library and didn't tell me about it." He chastises his daughter lightheartedly.

Regina shrugs and hisses. "You weren't here to tell. It was after Mother took you to Wonderland."

"Not my favorite experience, young lady." Henry breathes dryly.

"Do you want to yell at me about it…" Regina hisses and gestures to the room around them. "now?"

"No, of course, my dear, but did you have to put me in that infernal box? I don't know which was worse; the unrelenting solitude or those rare occasions when your mother would decide to treat me like some neglected pet she suddenly remembered. She would open the lid, smile at me the way a vulture smiles at prey, and coo, "Hello, Henry, dear. Then she would laugh, delighted by my predicament, and close the lid again."

Regina's hushed voice loses some of its edge as her own daughter looks on curiously with no frame of reference for the conversation. "I'm a lousy daughter."

Henry shakes his head. "I've never said that, and I never will." He steps close and wraps an arm around her as the door leading into the library suddenly opens, catching them all off guard.

As Robin and several of the others take aim, one of the palace's black knights steps surreptitiously into the room every bit as astonished to encounter them as they are to see him. Momentarily alarmed, he raises his hands in a defensive posture and backs up against the door, pushing it closed behind him. His eyes quickly scan the room, sliding past, and then rapidly returning to Regina; at which point, he instantly drops to one knee, bows his head, and removes his helmet; tucking it securely under his right arm. "Your Majesty." He declares with equal parts relief and fear.

"Lieutenant Drummond!"

The flaxen-haired knight sports a barrel chest, tight curls, and a goatee and when he dares to lift his eyes away from the floorboards, Robin is mildly startled by the fiercely intense green hue they possess. "It's pure madness out there, Your Grace. You should not be here. I do not know why you are here, but we must get you someplace safe. I only entered in hopes that I might open the passageway to smuggle the staff and some of the injured out before it is too late for them."

"I'm not going anywhere Drummond, and yes, of course, we will get them out."

The blonde man almost smiles as he finally dares to seek her eyes. "Now how did I know you were going to sa… Majesty, you are with child! This will not do! Upon my honor, upon my life, if necessary, you must leave here at once. You must go back the way you've come. I will see you safely through if you will allow it."

"On your feet, Lieutenant, and calm yourself. If her kingdom falls before sunrise, I'd at least like to be able to tell Princess Snow whom she has to thank for it."

* * *

**The Enchanted Forest**

**Present Day**

Outside the Dark Palace war approaches like a haunting specter astride a swift horse. The cries of anguish and battle not so distant as they were only moments ago. Inside, Drummond questions in obvious uncertainty. "Princess Snow?"

The queen raises an eyebrow. "Yes, well, it is rightfully her kingdom, is it not?"

The lieutenant squints as he rises to his feet. "I find, I'm at a loss for how best to answer that question, Your Grace."

As she paces, bristling with defensive energy, Regina's cold laughter rises from deep in her throat. "You can tell the truth, Drummond. You always have. Don't stop now. And this may rightfully be her kingdom, but until she is present to reclaim it, this is still my palace, and I will burn it to the ground myself, I will reduce it to mere cinders before I allow whoever is out there to waltz in here and take it from me!"

The blonde man's eyes widen in silent awe.

"Don't tell me you are surprised, Drummond?"

"Not by your ardor. Majesty, only by your recognition of the princess. Rumors have been heard of your possible…" He chooses his word hopefully. "Reformation… but I thought it best to wait for more than just supposition."

"And will such reformation be unwelcomed here, Lieutenant?"

"Perhaps by some, but not I. If it is true, you have my vow, now more than ever before, I am at your service. My alliance has, and always will lie with you, my queen."

Stepping to her left, Regina drapes an arm around her daughter's shoulders even as she places her other hand softly against the swell of her abdomen. "Lieutenant, as of this moment, your primary alliance must shift. Understand me now. From this point on, I am your secondary concern. Going forward, your job, above all else, is to ensure the welfare and safety of my daughter; Norah Beatrice Locksley, Princess of Covarrachia."

The lieutenant stammers in obvious bewilderment. "Forgive me, Your Grace. Am I to understand correctly that this young woman is your child?"

"Indeed, and at present, she is also my unborn child. However, if events occur as expected, she will arrive in but a few short weeks."

Drummond stares in open wonder as Norah scowls in dismay and hisses for her mother's benefit. "I can take care of myself."

"Regina shrugs and breathes just as quietly; the tepid smile on her face never faltering, "You wanted me. You got me."

"But how can this be?" The knight inquires in bewilderment.

Regina breathes deeply. "Time travel."

He nods slowly. "I see. If I may, Your Majesty…" He waits for her to nod before proceeding. "I would reveal that fact to no one else."

"I have no intention of doing so, Lieutenant. The only people who know, are the people in this room, all of whom are trusted implicitly."

The blonde knight reasons aloud "Then, at present, my primary concern is still you, Majesty. There is no way to guard her future without first protecting her present."

"Yes, but as I've said, there will come a point in the very near future when that fact will change irrevocably."

"Understood, Your Grace. As you wish."

"Now, quickly, tell me who is behind this attack on our royal soil."

"It is Nottingham, Majesty, and I must regretfully inform you that no matter the outcome here tonight when it is done, you will want to travel to Covarrachia. I'm afraid you'll find it in much the same detestable condition. That tyrant and his troops have laid waste to every realm their boots have trod."

Regina sighs heavily, pauses to think for a mere second and then nods in recognition of his words. "One battle at a time Lieutenant, one battle at a time. Why does he seek to attack here? Is that known?"

"It's only rumor, my queen. He's always been a greedy man, but according to some, a number of years ago, he reportedly crossed paths with a mage. One who may have refused to bear him a royal heir. Since that time, he has sought out and terrorized every mage who has been unlucky enough to cross his path. He's wrath grows, some say he has begun to form witch-hunting parties. He is reportedly executing anyone even suspected to be a practitioner without the burden of proof. He has passed a law in his own lands making the practice of all magic illegal. It is feared, if he is not stopped, all mages may be rendered unto extinction. It is not my right, of course, but were she mine…" He nods in Norah's direction. "I would caution you against the practice of any magic, for her sake."

Regina arches one perfectly sculpted eyebrow sharply.

"Bold, I know, Your Majesty, but you have only just charged me with her care."

Regina nods solemnly and inhales deeply; ready for what comes next. "Bring on the palace's refugees, Lieutenant. The Merry Men will assist you."

Sensing that the sounds of imminent battle have already intensified outside, he lobs a final warning. "Your Grace, I must try once more to urge you to leave this place. It is only a matter of precious minutes before the portcullis falls. We will hold the line either until victory, or until the very last of us is no more, but once that gate falls, pandemonium will reign."

Even with the queen residing elsewhere, the Dark Palace is run by a skeleton crew of no less than 60 staff and their family members. By the time 52 of those plus another two dozen injured residents and soldiers are smuggled out with as much expedience as possible through the sovereign head's secret escape, it is well after dark.

They traverse the underground passageway in harried fearful silence as quickly as possible; working together to help those in need, and all the while a great many of them are casting occasional secretive glances the queen's way. Half of them are too terrified to notice or care about the difference in her demeanor. The ones who do notice either stare in awe or shake their heads in disbelief and perplexity.

Keenly aware of this, she ignores it all. She leaves them to their doubts and speculations. She has more important things weighing heavy on her mind.

Satisfied with the new moon and the cover of darkness it provides., she marches them out into the night, careful to remain in the shadows that nature so thoughtfully provides.

At her side and intuitively aware of her unquiet mind, Robin interrupts her thoughts with an unspoken note of apology in his hushed voice. "What do we do with them?"

She sighs heavily and whispers back, "They are servants, Robin. They are not wealthy people. This is their home. For most of them, this palace is the only security they have. They have quite literally just vacated the only shelter they know with nothing more than what they can carry."

"I realize that, love. That's why I'm asking. We cannot just leave them to the elements."

Making up her mind even as she says the words, she breathes quietly in disgust. "I'm going to take them back to Storybrooke with me."

She's the only one to witness the widening of his blue eyes in the darkness.

"You're going to leave without an argument?" He whispers in disbelief.

She laughs drolly. "I don't want to. It feels like the coward's way out. It goes against every fiber of my being… except one. the one that is literally screaming, "You are Mom, first! Plus, it's really the only sensible option. I mean, I know my way around a sword, Robin, but I'm certainly no master of the blade. Without magic as my weapon, I'm really just another pampered royal who needs to be defended." She caresses her own belly with affection. "Especially now." Hating the taste of the words even as they scorch her tongue, she hisses with self-loathing. "I'm a liability, a distraction, a hindrance."

Aghast, Robin stops walking suddenly and turns to face her. Gripping her by the forearms, he shakes her gently. "You are no such thing! Where the bloody hell is this coming from? Prenatal hormones, pre-battle jitters? Where's the glorious hellcat I married? You have quite literally just saved the lives of over 70 people! No liability does that, Regina!"

With anger hardening her voice, she quietly passes judgment on herself. "What good am I if I can't even protect my own child. Apparently, I'm not even strong enough to survive her birth… And Robin, you heard Drummond just as clearly as I did. This whole thing is my fault. I'm the one who set Nottingham off."

Robin's normally handsome face hardens and distorts with barely tempered rage. "This is not your fault! You have more than enough crimes to hold yourself accountable for! Why must you continue to blame yourself for your mother's as well! She's the one who set this bloody nightmare in motion, Regina. Not you. So, you stop it. You stop it, right now before you teach our daughter, however unintentionally, to do the same. I will not have her walking through life under the weight of that horrendous and wholly undeserved burden!"

He stalks away and leaves her standing there open-mouthed and in shock with 74 pairs of eyes looking to her for guidance. Mere seconds later, he returns standing to the left of her father with his mother's hand in his, while his other hand is wrapped firmly around their daughter's forearm. Inclining his head harshly in a - follow me – gesture, he marches the lot of them into a thick stand of trees. Reaching into a pocket, he tosses a bean into the air. Even as the portal opens, Robin stomps away again with ground-eating strides and only a single word tossed over his shoulder. "Go!"

"With no way to soothe her husband's ruffled feathers, she motions for her father."

When he's near enough, King Henry glances at Robin's departing shadow and asks quietly, "Trouble?"

"We've been through worse. We'll sort it out later. You go first, Daddy. These people have no idea where they're going. They need someone to pave their way. Take Norah with you. Beatrice and I will bring up the rear."

They shuttle people through in very closely grouped pairs; most of them with their hands tightly clasped together. Urging them to step through gently but as quickly as possible. Regina assures repeatedly, "It's going to be okay. The portal will stay open as long as people are moving through. But don't delay, please go as quickly as you can. Follow the person in front of you. Follow King Henry and you will be safe."

Precious minutes later, she waves Beatrice in, glancing over her shoulder, praying to catch one last glimpse of Robin's shadow moving through the darkness. In the instant that she steps into the portal the horrid sound of the Dark Palace's great iron portcullis crashing in rips violently through the night air, and a massive fiery explosion lends a hellacious orange glow to the blackened sky overhead as Regina's daughter fights her way back through against the relentless pull of the portal by clinging to the arms of people she passes on her way.

Regina flails uselessly reaching out in a fruitless attempt to seize the girl as they both catch sight of her father, squarely in the crosshairs of a mounted enemy.

As the portal slams shut, the monarch watches in abject horror as her temporally displaced daughter shouts, "Daddy!" and dives into the path of certain catastrophe.

Regina whirls helplessly turning her back to the oncoming sight of Main Street and the ever-familiar cursed clock tower. Even as her feet find solid pavement, she swears violently and claws at the air, seized in momentary panic, trying beyond reason to return to the place she just left.

As her worried father steps up beside her, calling her name, her hearing is momentarily distorted, but it only takes the eternity of three seconds for her to forcibly reclaim her sanity and then lift the hem of her skirt to stomp with murderous intent into Granny Lucas's diner.

Moving fast to keep up, Henry and Beatrice encourage the others to gather around the outdoor patio while, beyond the diner's chiming welcome bell, Snow exclaims in total bewilderment, "Regina!"

Rushing to her side, the princess eyes her with an instant mix of dread and concern. "What happened! What is it! Regina, what's wrong?" Snow glances out the window through the blinds at the large number of newcomers, some of whom she recognizes instantly, but for the moment, she asks the question weighing heaviest on her mind. "Regina, where is Robin?"

The queen growls insidiously. "That bastard shot my daughter!"

Alarmed and confused, Snow glances downward, gently touching Regina's belly, looking for any sign of injury. When she finds none, she glances at her husband in wild uncertainty. "David? Do you see what she's talking about?"

Just as befuddled as his wife, the charming prince turned sheriff shrugs and steps closer.

Highly agitated and in no mood to be molested, even by a well-meaning friend, Regina brusquely slaps Snow's hands away, changes her mind, and retreats the way she came, moving twice as quickly as before. "Daddy, Beatrice, you explain it to them! I'm going to wake up that damn pumpkin eater!" She rages darkly. "I need more beans! I'll be back in twenty-five minutes. Whoever's going with me, be here. Be ready!"

The door to the diner slams behind her, the bell clattering violently in her wake.

Precisely thirty-five minutes from that moment, a battle-bruised Robin pauses in his ministrations to his daughter's wounded left arm and glances up from his place beside the library sofa to find his wife stepping through the hidden bookcase door once more. Only this time, she is dressed for battle, and in the company of most of Storybrooke's best-known citizens.

Temporarily lost in wonder, both he and Norah stare as the group files in one after the other. Close behind Regina, comes her father, his mother, Snow, David, Emma, and her pirate. They are followed by a battalion of princes and princesses, the librarian, a couple of wolves in human clothing, one farm girl from Kansas, a wicked witch, one gentle giant, a handful of dwarves, a squadron of fairies, a cricket and one large black and white spotted dog in possession of a wagging tail. Nearly all of them are armed and ready for action.

Moving instantly to the sofa, alarmed by the sight of a broken and bloody arrow, Regina reaches out with tender hands and magically heals her daughter's wound.

Still perspiring from the effects of now nonexistent pain, Norah flexes her arm and stares up at her mother with unmistakable gratitude and nothing short of soul-shaking awe. "Mom?"

Regina smiles patiently and when Robin opens his mouth to speak, she places a fingertip softly to his lips. "No… Shh… don't protest. I know what I promised you, and I know why I promised it. But I'd rather she dies acknowledging who she is, than live in a world where she's forced to deny it. Nottingham already knows who and what I am, Robin. There's no point in hiding. And I'm not going to do it anymore. If that wretched animal wants a reason to hate magic, then we're damn well going to give him one!"

Robin smiles. "Welcome back, Your Majesty… what took you so long?"


	9. Chapter 9

* * *

**The Enchanted Forest**

**Present Day**

Norah sits up on the sofa examining her newly healed arm and frowns with regret at the blood stain left behind on the delicate upholstery. "I'm sorry, Papa." She offers with quiet contrition.

"Dear child, that sofa is nothing more than a piece of furniture."

"But I know you love this room.

The old king nods. "That, I do, but this palace may fall tonight, along with this grand room. Please know that the most valuable things in here are the people around you. As long as all the people in this room see the dawn, I will gladly sacrifice this room, and everything in it, to Nottingham and his jackbooted mongrels without a single word of regret."

Norah smiles as she rises to her feet. "You think any of them will learn anything from all these civilized old books?"

"Sadly, my dear, goose-stepping morons such as these don't usually read books. They would probably rather burn them. Pity too, if they ever bothered to pick one up they might discover a better alternative to violence. As that is not likely to happen tonight, I pray the gods are with us in the unholy darkness beyond that door."

As he gestures toward the door, the door handle turns ever so slightly as if someone on the other side is quietly testing it.

Rising to their feet, Regina and Robin share a look heavy with silent conversation as they step around the sofa, side by side; their bodies shielding their daughter from immediate sight.

Quietly, Regina hisses over her shoulder, "Ruby how many are on the other side of the door?"

"Standing directly on the other side, right this minute?" Ruby hums low in her throat, seeking clarification as she inhales; her nose answering the question even before she begins to transform.

Regina nods silently while all her heroic friends make ready.

Ruby sheds her cloak, as she cautions with a deadly snarl, "Only two. But there's a small army not far behind them Regina."

Readying her bow, Snow steps up beside Regina on her left. "That's alright Red. There's one in here too."

Always preferring offense over defense, Regina doesn't wait for the doorknob to turn a second time. Squaring her shoulders, her gaze doesn't waver as she asks quietly, out of the side of her mouth, "Together then, Snow?"

"Together Regina."

She nods once in fiery determination and magically releases the latch on the door, throwing it wide open even as the duo on the other side prepare to come charging in with the intention of catching the room's occupants off-guard. The two of them rush. stumbling into the room, confused when their shoulders don't collide with the mammoth door carved in highly polished black walnut.

"One chance," Regina growls before her opening salvo.

"Huh?" They stare in fear and awe.

"I said one chance. As in - you have exactly one chance to turn around and walk out of here with your lives. I'll even let you take all your little friends with you. Or you can refuse and die!"

Contemplating the size of the group in the room and mentally comparing it with the size of their own battalion, one man raises his sword, the other his bow.

In perfect tandem, Robin and Snow fire, affectively announcing her presence a half-second before the queen strides through the doorway, out into the corridor. Extending her arms left and right, Regina throws a massive blazing fireball in either direction simultaneously.

Somewhere in the distance to her left, someone raises the alarm. "It's the queen! The queen is in residence!" When the only man visible on her right falls, his final scream dying before it is fully expelled from his lips, she sidesteps his way, allowing Robin to slide out the door and swiftly take up position in front of her.

They file out into the narrow corridor, catching a few of Nottingham's men completely by surprise. Forced to precede two men crammed shoulder to shoulder, even with drawn swords, and ready arrows the enemy's mortal army is no match for Regina and her small band of magical cohorts. Even those not in possession of magic arrived well-armed. In the narrow space, Robin lowers his bow and crouches, trusting entirely in his wife's aim. As he uses his own body as her first line of defense, sweat instantly beads on his forehead as a barrage of blazing fiery orbs ignite the air above his head. He sidesteps falling bodies when he can and quickly leaps over the ones he can't on nimble feet.

Troops scream in terror and agony as the palace becomes permeated with the acrid scents of smoke and charred flesh. Those scents quickly mingle with the rapidly intensifying coppery smell of blood in the air. Arrows, batons, and fireballs fly in every conceivable direction as the one-time and rightful denizens of the Enchanted Forest make their return, and their intent to maintain what is theirs felt.

When they are finally able to reach the end of the corridor with no less than eight enemy troops sprawled lifelessly on the floor behind them and have room enough to spread out, Emma raises a gun, and is immediately surprised when her father reaches out and quickly lowers it, his hand gently pressing down on the barrel. "That's not fair, honey. None of these men have ever seen a weapon like that. They are completely unprepared and defenseless against it."

Feeling prickly, Emma hisses, "And, what?" Regina throwing fireballs is fair?"

David shrugs. "No, that's not fair either, but at least they came in here expecting the possibility."

"You think? Regina doesn't live here anymore, Dad!"

David eyes the horde of soldiers surging in against them. "Maybe not…" He raises his sword against the first to charge him, and steps into the fight, talking over his shoulder as he goes. "But this is her place. If they weren't aware of the possibility, there wouldn't be so many of them. If they thought it was going to be a piece of cake to just breeze in here and take over, there wouldn't be more than 50 of them."

Emma shrugs and holsters her 45-caliber H & K. Releasing a blast of her own magic, she catches one man entirely unaware as the soldier directly in front of him makes the mistake of lowering his bow in utter astonishment. She wrenches it from his hands even as he opens his mouth and cries out in an attempt to warn his villainous comrades. However, the word, "Magic!" is not fully expelled before Emma balls up her fist and punches the unsuspecting archer squarely in the face.

His eyes go wide even as his vision goes grey around the edges and he sinks to his knees and falls into darkness even before he tastes the blood flowing freely from his shattered nose.

Ruby and her grandmother, both on four feet instead of two, lunge with fangs bared at the throats of two more, dispatching them quickly before moving on to the next in line.

Swarms of magical beings of the flying variety drop small pouches of fairy dust from high overhead. Those hit directly are either disarmed or suddenly find themselves dispossessed of their armor. Missed targets are simply confused and disoriented by the swirls of glowing dust and either scenario gives the pickax-wielding dwarves the far greater advantage over their taller and typically stronger opponents.

One unlucky fellow narrowly misses taking Emma's head off with his trusted blade while she is distracted by another adversary only to find his own throat slit in retaliation by the lightning-quick hook of Killian Jones.

Emma touches her own throat and blinks rapidly, momentarily stunned by the near miss and Hook winks as he dashes away, already after another. "Hands up, love. Never drop your hands." He calls out to her standing somewhere between the haze of black smoke and the hellish magical glow of both orange and green firelight.

One poor soul tosses a razor-sharp spear and stares in abject horror when his intended target reaches out and catches the ominous projectile midair.

Thrilled by his terror, Zelena laughs wickedly as she snaps the long-handled spear in half and tosses it away as if it's of no more consequence than a twig.

A deer caught in headlights, the man stares transfixed, only able to grunt and writhe in pain as the redhead reaches into his chest and brutally yanks out his beating heart.

Smiling seductively, she tosses it gently back and forth between her upturned palms as if she is holding a hot roll or potato.

The heartless man trembles violently and says not a word as the queen breezes passed and snarls insidiously, just above a whisper. "Either give it back or kill him, Zelena. Don't play with him. He's not a pet. he doesn't deserve to be treated as such."

Zelena cocks her head to one side and raises an eyebrow. The next moment she smiles radiantly and for one brief, glorious, infinitesimal flicker of time, he thinks he's going to be alright. The next instant his body collapses as if it is suddenly boneless, and grey lifeless dust slips freely through her fingers to the floor below.

Already cut once by her own dagger, Belle quickly rethinks her choice of weapon and tucks it into her belt. Bobbing, weaving, and dodging, the petite librarian moves quicker than the mountain-sized behemoth before her until she is close enough to blow seductively in his ear, whereupon, she wrenches his baton free of his own meaty grasp and swings for the fences harder than Satchel Paige ever did. The connecting blow to his temple drops him like a stone. Belle nods once in self-satisfaction and steps away with her newly acquired weapon as Dorothy Gale approaches on her right with a similar cudgel raised and at the ready.

"Nice swing. Nice footwork too. Shows me. There for a second, I thought you were gonna need a hand with that one."

Belle pants and wipes sweat off her brow with the back of her arm. "Thanks, stay close, will you? I may need help with the next one."

"How about this? We'll stand back to back, our shoulders touching, and make our way across the room. That way, no one can sneak up on either of us. If we dance our way over there to Regina, she'll heal that hand for you first chance she gets."

"Sounds like a plan, but I don't want to distract her. Looks like she's got her hands full. And this is a long way from life-threatening." Belle says, indicating the wound beneath the self-made bandage, courtesy of her torn skirt.

Dorothy breathes deeply, making good use of their brief reprieve while it lasts "I don't think I've ever seen her throw one and then the other in such rapid-fire succession before."

"What? the light from the right, immediately followed or preceded, I suppose - depending on which way you look at it, by the dark from the left?”

"And she switches back and forth so effortlessly. It's sort of impressive to watch."

Belle nods. "It's beyond impressive. It's straight up phenomenal. Using both at the same time would be cataclysmic. It would not only wipe all of them out of existence but probably all of us too. She's got her timing down to an artform. "

Dorothy squints and sighs in resignation as the two of them are forced to surrender their respite and dispatch another pair of eager attackers. "I thought she said the baby was messing with her power? She doesn't look like she's having any trouble to me."

"Uh huh." Belle grunts in protest as she wallops another goon upside the head major league-style. "But Robin says when she's scared or angry, she never misses. When it counts, she's dead on every time."

"I don't think I've ever seen that woman look scared. Even now, she doesn't look scared to me. She just looks bloodthirsty."

"Some hide it better than others, that's all. And Regina long ago mastered the fine art of deception when it comes to never letting the enemy see her sweat. You may not see it, but trust me, she's got a husband and a child here in this melee. She's terrified."

Dorothy thunks a lean short-statured fellow who is scarcely bigger than her on the head. Sheer adrenaline mixed with a healthy dose of luck is the only thing that allows her to best his quick reflexes as she kicks off, rising from the floor and spinning into him. Elbowing him as hard as she can in the chest, she knocks him off balance and chooses to yank the sword from his grasp as he staggers and falls. "Time for an upgrade!" She breathes triumphantly until she tries to lift the sword over her head and realizes immediately that she doesn't have the upper body strength necessary to wield the thing properly.

Belle chuckles. "Stick with your baton as long as you can. Those things are heavier than they look, and they require a different set of muscles."

The sword clatters to the obsidian marble floor as Dorothy relents. "Boy, you're telling me!"

"Go with your strengths. They may be bigger and stronger. They may outnumber us, but we have the home-court advantage, and we're smaller, faster, and smarter than most of them. All that armor may protect them, but it also weighs them down. be small, quiet, and sneaky… And whenever possible, use what the gods gave you."

Dorothy hisses incredulously. "Belle, you aren't actually suggesting I flirt with these foul-breathed musclebound tyrants, are you?"

"Hey, I know it's underhanded and cringe-worthy to boot. But they're not used to physical confrontation coming from a woman. In case you haven't noticed, there's a war going on in here. I say if it works, and they're stupid enough to fall for it… Well, if you got it, flaunt it, sister!"

In the ever-present company of a few of her black knights, Regina battles on. Keeping one eye on the room around her at all times and a constant sense of Robin and Norah's location, she yearns for higher ground. She yearns to stop the constant ingress of new troops flowing into the palace from outside. They can't go on this way indefinitely. She eyes her lieutenant and realizes without a single word spoken between the two of them that the same thought is burning through his mind as well.

Raising her voice above the din of clashing swords, and the cries of pain mingled with grunts of exertion, the queen commands loudly, "Thief, princess, and the wicked one… With me… Now!"

In very short order, she finds the three of them standing near enough to touch. Her sister looks annoyed but curious while her husband and daughter simply wait for what's to come. "Hold on to Zelena." She instructs the pair of them. To Zelena, she says quietly, "First stop, the corridor outside the widow's walk. Don't lose them on the way up."

Zelena rolls her eyes but says nothing.

Next Regina reaches for her lieutenant's hand and he, along with the tight circle of black knights who stand guard around the foursome, join hands and vanish from sight just a single second later than the Wicked Witch and her charges do.

Materializing, where she intended to be, the queen is pleased to find that the fighting has apparently not yet reached this deserted floor. Still, just to be on the safe side she quietly tells all within hearing range. "No prisoners. I don't want the dungeons overrun with vermin who will need to be seen to. You find anybody up here, they either walk out willingly or they die. We're going out on the roof. Zelena and I are going to throw up a magical barrier around this place. No one else is coming in. We won't last another hour if we don't cut off their access. After that, we're going to walk this place, room by room, floor by floor, magically sealing off wings as we go. We lock the place down, give them nowhere to go but down and out, and if you spot Nottingham, do not kill him. Robin Hood and I are going to have a conversation with that festering bastard!"

They all nod in silent agreement and Regina steps toward a ghastly portrait of Morgana Le Fay. It isn't until she unlocks a magical barrier with a wave of her hand and moves the painting away from the wall that Robin realizes it is held in place on concealed hinges and doubles as the doorway to the roof and beyond to the aforementioned widow's walk.

Her knights quickly verify that they are, indeed, alone before Regina appoints four of them to remain behind. She then steps into the steeply ascending stone stairwell with the others close behind and waits to hear the sound of one of her nights knocking softly; just two rapid taps, signaling that the entryway can be sealed once more.

That done, she ascends on to the roof Magically unsealing yet another doorway at the top of the stairs, she steps through slowly, quietly, with Robin assuming his preferred position three steps ahead of her. As he passes by, he hisses quietly, "Just so you know, mi'lady, I don't like this. I'm not at all comfortable with my very pregnant wife traipsing around on the palace roof in the dark of night."

Enjoying his protective streak even as it annoys her, Regina asks archly, "What, you don't want to dance under the stars?"

Robin scowls, and she laughs.

"Will you relax, please. I'm not planning to spend the night out there."

When they are met with no opposition, Regina and her sister quickly walk to opposite sides of the roof courtesy of the widow's walk; cautiously ducking behind the safety of the parapet when near enough to the eaves to be spotted from the ground below.

Walking to one of the two remaining eaves, and then the other with Norah close behind him and the guards fanning out around them, Robin points to a grappling hook and makes meaningful eye contact with his wife who nods and signals for him to wait momentarily.

In no time at all, she and her sister raise their hands high into the night sky throwing a magical shield up around the entire palace, creeping slowly out of sight to the center of each of the four arcs in the semi-circular roof.

When she's satisfied with their work, content that only those who are now trapped inside the barrier remain to be dealt with, Zelena nods, and in return Regina nods to Robin, who maintains his crouched position until he manages to sever the rope from its grappling hook courtesy of his trusty knife, at which point he peers out over the edge of the parapet and whistles softly, musically, like a night bird calling out to a mate.

Men caught scaling the wall, look up, first with curiosity and then with horror as Norah smiles brightly and waves goodbye the instant before her father releases them to the night, a free fall and the sudden impact on stone awaiting them at the end. Quickly trotting to each of the three remaining arcs, Robin and Norah repeat the process twice more.

Careful not to tempt fate, Robin tosses each of the three ropes but keeps the hooks atop the roof. There's no point in returning them so that they might be used again.

With the sister's magical barrier a mere eighteen inches from the palace walls, the only way anyone can fire upon them is to stand within that limited amount of space and fire vertically into the air. Robin shakes his head. Even he couldn't make a shot like that. Not if he expected to hit anyone or anything at this altitude. Just to be sure, he double checks. Eyeing the shimmering translucent magical barrier as the men below shout in angry protest to the same, some of them crying out in pain, no doubt zapped when they try to step through. "Is that thing weapon-proof or just people-proof."

The sisters eye one another and shrug. "I wouldn't step through or try throwing anything through," Regina announces drolly. "But then, I have no desire to become human barbecue. I can't speak for those mindless drones."

They return to the palace the way they exited and once she taps softly against the back of the portrait doorway and her guard whistles softly in response. They step through where Regina once again seals the entryway this time with a fiery response if anyone dares to try to open it from either side.

As quickly as possible they traverse the two uppermost floors of the palace, sealing off unoccupied wings that are protected in much the same combustible fashion. It isn't until half the second floor has been cleared and sealed off that they began to encounter resistance, but the few who make it to the second floor are small bands. Stragglers easily dealt with, and most of those by her highly trained black knights. Regina heals a few injuries, alleviates the aches and pains caused by them, giving her troops a somewhat renewed sense of purpose and determination as they descend the grand staircase into the bowels of chaos once more.

Giving up on the prospect of sealing off whole wings, Regina and the others battle their way from one room to the next. Along the way, she passes word to Emma, the fairies, and any other magical beings. "You clear an empty room, you seal it. From that point on, no one goes in or out. Trap them in, limit their movement. You cut off their room to move about freely, you limit their ability to fight."

Emma nods her understanding as her mother steps up beside her catching enough words to understand the plan for herself. She fires a few arrows into the slowly dwindling horde.

"I don't know, Regina. That still might not be enough. We're still grossly outnumbered although wherever you guys disappeared too, whatever you did, it worked. They're not pouring in through the doors and windows anymore. Even so, it still might be too late."

"If that's the case, I'll head south and make my way back to the library, Emma can come in from the North, Zelena from the west, and Robin from the east; we will light this place up and burn it down with the rotten bastards trapped inside. We'll seal the library door, open a portal and wait until the last possible minute to abandon ship."

Snow stares in utter astonishment as Robin tosses his wife a silent but pained look. "You can't be serious, Regina! You love this place!"

Regina shrugs even as she nods. "I love my family more. You never really spent very much time here, Snow. You'll still have the Winter and Summer palaces, assuming they have yet to fall, which, is unlikely. Nottingham's problem is with me. Not you. Both of them are more to your tastes, I think. Unless you tell me, you want this place. Do that, and I'll fight like hell to save it, but if not, Robin and I are moving on. Robin needs to be in Elyria. After a conversation we had with Drummond, Daddy and I need to be in Covarrachia. Apparently, Nottingham has been up to no good for quite a while in our absences. Go home to Storybrooke if you like, where it's safe, or stay and reclaim what's left of your kingdom. Count on our support for the kingdom; of course, but…"

"Regina, I can't just turn my back on the Enchanted Forest."

"No, I know that Snow. I'm not suggesting you do. But…" She drops her voice to a mere whisper and steps intimately close. "If we can't force them out soon, I really will burn the place to the ground before I'll see George Nottingham leaving notches in the bedposts."

Snow wrinkles her nose in disgust at the thought alone as Regina launches a barrage of flaming animosity into the encroaching crowd.

Before she can decide on her next course of action, Ruby snarls darkly from somewhere across the grand foyer, the chandelier overhead sways dangerously, plaster gives way, and the entire assembly crashes violently to the floor below, shattering glass and crystal in all directions and Ruby yelps, the unmistakable ear-piercing cry of a wounded animal.

With a fresh surge of adrenaline born of love and fear, Dorothy charges through the throng of attackers, narrowly stepping out of the line of fire without ever realizing that she's been in it to begin with. The arrow meant for her finds a new home instead; the floor a few yards passed Regina, but not before grazing her right arm and carrying away a significant ounce's worth of flesh. She opens her mouth to cry out, but no sound rises as she whirls to confront the first enemy she sees and robs him of his last breath before his body hits the floor.

Instantly alerted by his nearly constant awareness of her, Robin gives up any pretense of fair play or good form and brutally pounds on his current foe, forcibly driving the younger leaner man to the floor in a bloody heap, even before his wife's name fully escapes his lips.

Aware that she's hit, but not the precise location of the injury, a small company of her knights surround her and forcibly move her across the open space, driving her into the large pantry at the south end of the largest of the kitchens despite her heated protests that they stop because she, "Hit the wrong damn one!"

Robin chases wildly after them, as Norah approaches with no less determination, completely deaf to Lieutenant Drummond's strident protests. Taking her aim, Robin's daughter stalks passed him. Growling to herself without the slightest care for who might be listening in, she hisses venomously. "Dead man walking!"

As Robin makes it to Regina's side, his worried hands searching for the wound site, their daughter changes her trajectory ever so slightly with precision split-second timing before her arrow is loosed, and deliberately fires through a convenient hail of green magical flame provided courtesy of her aunt, effectively setting both her projectile, and her target on fire nearly instantaneously.

Regina forcibly stills Robin's hands as both parents stare at their child in wonder.

"I'm okay… Robin, It's just a flesh wound." She squeezes her eyes shut momentarily. "I promise, it's a long way from fatal… but damn, it hurts!"

Meanwhile, the one responsible, a man with auburn hair and ridiculously long sideburns, stares down at his own chest in shock and horror. Even before the unspoken question rises in his muddy green eyes, even before the searing pain pierces his heart, Norah answers loudly, violently. "Yes, you! I did not travel all this way just to watch you shoot my mom! You, unrepentant vulgar little worm! Buh-bye now! Time for you to be going!"

He's dead before he can do more than whimper but in the instant before that occurs, Robin eyes his daughter with blatant scrutiny and whispers to his wife, "You're going to think I'm mad, I'm sure, but I think she might actually be enjoying this bloody free-for-all!"

Regina's quiet chuckle is heavily laced with pain and nearly inaudible to all but him. "I don't think you're mad in the least. That is my child! If I ever had a single moment's reservation about that fact…"

Robin's own chuckle is arid, but not entirely devoid of humor as he rips off the one shirt sleeve he has left and moves to tie a makeshift bandage tightly over Regina's freshly seeping wound. However, before he can accomplish his intended task, a brilliantly soft white light emanates from inside the wound and magically seals it shut. He touches the former wound site with tentative, gentle, but curious fingers as Regina stares down at it in bewilderment, prodding it with her own fingers. Her priceless expression mirroring his to perfection as Norah hurries to them with a highly disgruntled Lieutenant Drummond trailing behind her. The guards part ranks, quickly closing in around the trio as Robin whispers in astonishment, "I thought you said you couldn't heal yourself?"

Regina nods her head in an assurance of that fact even as the scowl on her face deepens and she stammers disjointedly, "I did. I didn't. I can't."

"Then how…"

Regina shrugs, completely at a loss, albeit a temporary one.

Norah also shrugs, but without the slightest trace of uncertainty. "I guess mini-me doesn't like people putting holes in you either, Mom."

Regina squints and shakes her head; doubt seeping into her voice even as she says, "No, that's not possible. It can't be…"

Norah raises a challenging eyebrow. "If you have a better explanation… And exactly why can't it be?"

"Mortal children do not cast - not from the womb. A few have been known to come into their power very early in life, but I've never once heard of a mortal witch wielding even the most basic magic prior to six months of age; let alone prior to birth. Only the children of deities do that."

"So... just because you've never heard of it, means it's not possible? Mom, that's…"

Regina shakes her head. "Shortsighted; I know. I sound like my mother."

"When was the last time a practicing shadow caster got knocked up?"

Regina scoffs comically as Emma's mouth falls open.

"I have no clue, Norah. And please try to choose your words with a little more grace and dignity. That language is just unladylike and entirely unnecessary." Regina reaches out and snatches a sword away from an unsuspecting soldier who is caught wildly off-guard by the relaxed topic of conversation amid bloodshed and carnage.

As her mother quickly dispatches the fellow with his own blade, Norah flinches in blatantly obvious surprise. Turning to Robin, she raises an eyebrow, "She gives elocution lessons while slaying treasonous toad boys? Daddy, you got some taste in women!"

Robin throws back his head and laughs openly as he pulls his wife into his arms. Still talking to his daughter, he smiles at his wife and pushes an errant strand of loose hair gently away from her mouth. The moment before his lips find hers, he whispers reverently, "Don't I know it, kid."

For a moment, the couple is half lost in each other, yet still half aware of the battle taking place around them. They kiss until Zelena grouses loudly. "Oh, for the love of all things wicked! People are dying, and you two want to pick this moment to make out? Get a room!"

Breaking the kiss, Regina hurls a massive fireball straight into the face of someone lining them up in their crosshairs using only her peripheral vision. "Hey, don't you worry about us, Greenie!" She announces, her gaze never leaving Robin's. "We know what we're doing. Make yourself useful, go heal whatever happened to Ruby."

Zelena points to herself comically. "Excuse me? I think you have me confused with someone else. Wicked Witch, here. Savior is nowhere in my job description! I'm just here for the mayhem."

Rolling her eyes, Emma fights her way through the malevolent crowd. "I'm on it!"


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time travel is a tricky thing. It took me a little extra time to work out all the nuances and potential hazards in this critical chapter. For a wee minute there, I thought I might actually suffer a brain bleed from the stress of it. But I think I've worked something out. I hope you like it.

* * *

**Storybrooke, Maine**

**Nearly 17 Years into The Future**

**The Villa**

With absolutely no desire to be where he is, but for want of any better alternative, Robin sighs in disgust and knocks on Hades' front door. Nothing has changed about the place. It's been years since he stood in the spot where he is now, but everything is just as he remembers.

While he waits to be received, he stands with his hands at his sides and takes in the familiar sight of columns made of opulent alabaster marble and the image of Greek gods depicted on the ceiling of the portico. The place is as it always has been. He has no objection to subtle elegance, but he finds the grandeur of this place grossly overblown and suffocating. The entire structure, inside and out, glistens. Nothing is ever out of place; nothing is ever smudged. Everything about the house and all of its contents is unyielding and polished to a blinding brilliance.

The same butler with the same immaculate white gloves and the same dour expression opens the front door.

He acknowledges Robin's presence flatly as if this were not the first time he has visited in over 16 years, as if his presence here were commonplace. "Mr. Locksley."

"I'd like a word with his unholiness."

"Is he expecting you?"

Robin shrugs. "That's unlikely."

The butler, whose name he has forgotten, was blonde and slightly gray at the temples when Robin last saw him, but now has a thick mane of shock-white hair.

As the man steps back from the door, allowing Robin into the house, the archer silently concedes that time has taken its toll on them all, including himself.

Allowing him no further than the vestibule, the nameless butler delivers a quiet but resolute, "Wait here."

He does wait. He waits until he grows bored. He waits until the retired thief within starts mentally taking stock of the immodest joint. It isn't until this point that Hades condescends to grant him an audience and Robin has no doubt that his delayed appearance was perfectly timed.

"Hello, Locksley. Don't tell me you're feeling nostalgic."

"If it were a walk down memory lane I wanted, yours would be the last house I would visit."

"Yes, well, I didn't think it was a social call. What can I do for you?" The dark god asks, barely restraining the natural sneer that graces his countenance.

"I need a word with Eliana – if she's home."

"And what makes you think I would allow that?"

"Come off it. You know perfectly well that I am no threat to your daughter. If she's home, I need to talk to her. Norah has gone missing, and if Eliana is not with her, she's the person most likely to know where my daughter is."

There's no need for you to talk with my daughter. Eliana is in her room. Your daughter is in the Enchanted Forest, but more than 16 years in the past. Eliana helped her get there before I went searching for her and brought her home."

"I suppose it was too much to ask that you bring both girls home?"

"Your daughter is your responsibility. Not mine. If I could manage it without seriously altering my relationship with Eliana, they would never see each other at all."

"Separating them won't help either of us. I don't know if it's come to your attention or not, but the harder you try to separate them, the more time they spend together."

"Yes, I'm aware." Hades answers drolly.

"So, let's try something new. Let's try a little cooperation."

"What? You want me to invite the two of you over for Sunday brunch twice a month?"

"Not in this lifetime." Robin cringes. "I'm merely suggesting that maybe we help each other out - one father to another."

"I've already offered all the help I'm going to. I told you where your daughter is. Getting her back home is entirely up to you."

Holding in his disgusted sigh, Robin turns reaching for the door as he declares blandly. "Thanks for that."

He already has one foot over the threshold when a familiar young voice halts his progress, and he turns in time to see his niece descending the grand staircase.

"Daddy, stop being rude. Uncle Robin needs help to bring Norah home and you know it."

"Well, maybe the two of you should've thought about that before you decided to dabble with things you don't understand. He's got all the help he's going to get from anyone inside this house."

"Fine then." Eliana breezes passed her father and takes her uncle's hand as she steps over the threshold. Once outside, she slams the front door letting her father know that she's taking him quite literally.

Leaning against one of the columns, she crosses her arms over her chest and offers her uncle a troubled look. "I'm really sorry about this, Uncle Robin. I didn't want to leave her. Dad made me."

Robin grinds his teeth; resisting the impulse to shout at the girl. "Where exactly did you leave her?"

Eliana wrinkles her nose. "In the Enchanted Forest. When Dad showed up we had just found you and Aunt Regina. Well, I'm not sure. I think maybe you found us, but the point is… I left her with you and…"

Robin holds up a hand, silently stalling her. "Yes, I remember that much. Norah stayed with us. Later that evening, during a raid on the Dark Palace - Norah was supposed to be returning to Storybrooke with her mother - at the last possible moment, she changed her mind, crawled back through the open portal and prevented my being shot by one of Nottingham's archer’s.

Eliana’s blue eyes widen dramatically in alarm and then, slowly, she smiles and shakes her head, nearly giddy with excitement. "That wasn't our plan, Uncle Robin. We didn't go back with the intent to change your being shot. Norah must have seen the opportunity and seized it at precisely the right moment."

"She told us that she wanted Regina to return to Storybrooke – that she traveled back in an effort to prevent her mother's death."

Eliana nods with enthusiasm. "Yes, that was the plan."

Robin offers her a sad hollow look. "Well, clearly, it didn't work."

Eliana shakes her head wildly but continues to smile as if she's just discovered the path to victory, "Don't you understand, Uncle? Norah and I, we have discussed our plan to save Aunt Regina over and over and over again until we could recite it in our sleep. She has never once mentioned any plan to prevent you from being shot. Even though you've told us the story of how much Aunt Regina wanted to be Norah's mom, more times than I can count, we knew we wouldn't be able to control every moment of the past. There are things you left out. Probably because you didn't want to scare us. We anticipated that possibility. Parents really don't give their kids enough credit. We're tougher than you think we are, but never mind that for now. My point is, we knew we wouldn't know every single detail ahead of time. We knew we would have to take things as they came. Just because Norah hasn't saved Aunt Regina yet doesn't mean she can't. She's not back yet. And if she saw the right moment and prevented your being shot, that means that changing the future from that point forward is possible. As of right now, you remember Norah traveling back in time. You remember meeting your daughter before she was born." Eliana offers him a radiant joyous smile. "Uncle Robin, this time yesterday afternoon, you didn't remember that. This time yesterday afternoon you were walking with a cane because Norah and I hadn't yet gone back in time. She hadn't stopped you from being hit by that arrow. You just don't remember. Don't you see, Uncle Robin, I grew up knowing that you had been shot. You were hit in your left thigh. You survived, but the injury left you with a permanent limp. Originally, Aunt Regina healed it as best she could. But there was a delay in her getting to you because she'd already stepped through the portal. She saw it happen, but she couldn't step back through. There wasn't enough time. She had to go back to Storybrooke and get more magic beans to get to you. By the time she made her way back, the palace was in the throes of all-out war. She literally healed the wound with one hand while holding off attack with the other. You wanted to leave at that point, but she wouldn't. She insisted - you had to stop Nottingham. You stayed. Norah was born. And things… went badly."

Robin shakes his head in frustration. "Eliana, I only remember not being shot. I don't remember it ever being any other way."

His niece nods with triumphant enthusiasm. "No, you wouldn't. Not if she changed it."

"But, I still remember Regina dying,"

Eliana frowns. "Well then, that hasn't changed yet. We have to find a way to get to her. We have to let her know."

* * *

**Storybrooke, Maine**

**Nearly 17 Years into The Future**

**The Villa**

Half an hour elapses as Eliana and her uncle talk outside.

Inside, and irritated beyond all capacity for rational thought, Hades peers out a window watching his woman-child of a daughter talk to her uncle and curses the union that made him so.

"Damn Regina! Why did she have to go slumming and fall for a lowly thief with an altruistic conscience? Why couldn't she do as propriety demanded and marry some boring ineffectual royal?"

Letting the drapes fall back into place, he leaves the window and paces his luxurious front parlor in agitation. Sometimes glancing over his shoulder at the larger than life portrait hanging above the fireplace, and sometimes not, he talks to his wife's beautifully captured image as if it were more than just oil-based paint on canvas.

"I need you here. She needs you here. I need your help. She doesn't listen to me… At all. What am I to do with her? She nearly got herself hanged today. And for what? To save Regina! To bring Regina back! What is it with the two of you? I don't understand. Why would she? Why did you … Can't you help me understand her?"

The image of his wife standing tall, poised, and elegant in a white silk sheath of a wedding dress that hugs her every curve with a golden emerald studded tiara and matching necklace smiles back at him silently, offering no insight, no solution to his conundrum.

"Why did you have to put us in this position? Damn it, Zelena! You should be here!" He glares at the portrait.

"Ahem."

Hades whirls on his heel to find both his daughter and their unwanted visitor eyeing him with an odd mix of concern and doubt. The concern doesn't bother him. Let them think he's mad. He doesn't care. However, behind the uncertainty, the faint hint of understanding visible in the archer's eyes sets him dangerously on edge.

"Don't you look at me like that, Locksley. Don't look at me like you have even the slightest understanding of what I'm going through. Because you don't! You don't have the first damn clue! You don't love her. You didn't lose her!" He gestures wildly toward the image on the wall above the fireplace."

Robin shrugs complacently as if the deity's dark mood is of little consequence. "I would never presume to understand your relationship with your late wife Hades. Actually, I was thinking – just for a second, mind you - that at least I'm not the only one who still talks to his departed wife. I've got two of them to talk to. And, from time to time, I still get angry with them too. I just hope that if anyone ever catches me at it, I don't look quite as unhinged as you do right now."

Hades glowers hideously and before he can retaliate in any way his daughter steps into the breach, redirecting his wrath. "I'm going back. I'm going to help Norah."

"The hell you are!"

Eliana carries on as if he hadn't spoken at all. "And you're going to help me get there, Dad."

"I will do no such…"

She cuts him off; refusing to let him finish the sentence. "You can keep me here for the next two months. You can lock me in this mausoleum you call a home. But do that, and once I'm 18, I am gone for good… Unless you stop this now! I love you, Daddy, but I'm tired of being the buffer between you and the rest of creation. You're not mad at Uncle Robin. You're not mad at anyone except her…" Eliana waves aggressively toward the painting of her mother. "For leaving, and yourself, for not preventing it. But you take it out on everyone and everything around you, and I'm tired of being the stopgap between you and total annihilation. I won't do it anymore! I'm going. You're going to help me… Because you love me, and that's all there is to it!"

"How dare you!" His head erupts in blue flames. "How dare you betray me like this! How can you betray your mother like this? Have I taught you nothing of loyalty… of fidelity?"

"How dare I? How dare you, Daddy? How dare you accuse me of betrayal? You're so busy being angry that it's never even occurred to you that if we can go back and prevent Aunt Regina from dying, Mum will never have to die trying to get her back! Tell me. How is that betrayal? Explain that to me! How in your twisted, warped mind does preventing Mum from blowing herself and my little brother, into nothingness constitute betrayal?"

Hades opens his mouth on the verge of another thunderous tirade only to snap it shut again in shock and wonder.

He whispers. "You never said that's what you were trying to do. You never told me that."

Eliana laughs angrily and shouts at her father. "Well, of course, that's what I'm trying to do! You're not really so shortsighted, so self-absorbed, as to think I went through all this, I risked being hanged by witch hunters and pissed you off just for the chance to play with magic - just to test the boundaries? Push the limits? You don't really think Norah and I are stupid enough to put both our asses and our necks on the line in the name of nothing more substantial than teenage rebellion?"

The blue flames vanish from sight as understanding sets in. "El, sweetheart, why didn't you tell me?"

"Call me crazy! I didn't think I needed to! I thought it was obvious!" She exhales noisily before removing her hands from her hips and relaxing her stance. "Things aren't going quite the way we hoped, Dad. I need to go find Norah. Uncle Robin needs to stay here. I don't know if the two of him can be in the same temporal space or not. If we take him with us he might wind up merging with his past self or something like that. When we got there, Norah didn't have her magic. I'm not sure, but probably because technically she hasn't been born yet, at least not in that time."

Hades scowls. "She's there without magic?"

"Yes, Daddy."

"That doesn't make any sense. If she has no magic, how in the world did she manage to keep you from being hanged?"

Eliana rolls her eyes. "Daddy, if you ever bothered to spend even a little time with Norah, you might start to figure out why I like her so much. She's pretty versatile. She doesn't just rely on magic. I know I pick on her for being a bit of a nerd, but the truth is, she's really smart. And she can think on her feet, moving fast. I mean when it's do or die time. And she's pretty handy with a bow and arrow. She aimed for the rope my noose was fashioned from. She shot me down. Bit of a rough landing, but I'm still here. I know you don't think so, but even if you don't trust her, trust me, Dad. She's always got my back."

"See, and that's where I get confused. With your power, you don't need a sidekick."

Eliana laughs. "She's not my sidekick, Dad. She's my friend. I may have the raw power, but she's got the nerve. When the chips are down, her brain kicks into gear. Mine shuts down. I panic, she acts. And as far as power goes… She may not be a demigoddess, but she's no squib either. She's got more than she thinks she does. She's a lot more like Aunt Regina than she knows."

Hades looks pointedly at Robin. "Well, maybe it's her father's job to tell her that. Not yours."

"Why? So that she can live every day the same way I do; knowing that she's nothing more than a constant reminder of a ghost?" I look like Mum. I should know. You tell me often enough, and I have my eyes. I can see. But I'm not like her. Not really. I just remind you of her. That's not the same thing, Dad."

Hades steps toward his daughter, reaching out to her, only to have her back away hastily.

"No! I don't want an apology, Dad. I want my friend back. Are you going to help me, or not?"

"You certainly argue with me like your mother would."

Eliana stares hard without comment.

With his back up against the proverbial wall, Hades mulls over his options, each one less desirable than its predecessor. At length, he eyes Robin speculatively and warns him. "There are some things even gods are not capable of."

Robin shrugs. "Of course. If you were capable of all things, your wife would still be here. Just bring my daughter home. You'll have my gratitude. If you manage more than that, I'll be in your debt."

Robin steps forward and Hades pauses but a second before returning his firm handshake.

* * *

**Enchanted Forest**

**Present Day**

**The Black Palace**

Hades arrives stepping out of his own ominously dark portal into the moonless night with his daughter at his side. Her hand clutched firmly in his, he crouches behind some shrubbery and finds the palace courtyard to be brightened by the ghastly orange glow of firelight while the scents of acrid smoke and coppery blood press themselves tightly together and dance through the air in some dark lover's tango.

The wretched cries of those who are not yet dead mingle with the grunts of those still engaged in battle and the sight of spilled blood and mangled or severed body parts mixes with it all to assault the senses and overload the mind.

Dread and despair are one thing, and Hades knows that, when coupled, they breed war, but he prefers to delight in the glories of destruction from afar. Having his child face to face with it quite literally sours his stomach. He has every intention of returning the way he came; especially when he looks into her frightened blue eyes. He half turns, and she holds tight. Scared as she is, she's also more determined than he's ever known her to be. "Oh, no you don't. I'm not leaving."

She points through the darkness and the smoke to the gaping opening where the palace's portcullis used to be. "We're going in there. She pulls her hand free of his. I'm going to find Norah, with or without you, Dad."

With no other recourse – at least not one that won't make her hate him – Hades finally surrenders. "Eliana, sweetheart, go home. I'll find Norah. I'll bring her back with me. I promise."

His young daughter stubbornly shakes her head. You can't just bring her home. She came here for a reason. I won't let her come this far for nothing. We must give her the chance to do what she came to do. We have to help her!"

"You know I can't do that. Damn your uncle! Zeus made it perfectly clear I'm not to alter what was. If I do that, I wind up back in the underworld, with no chance of freedom. You're all I have left. I won't have you condemned to life in that wasteland. You deserve more. You deserve better."

Eliana glares at her father. "I won't deserve better; not if I let her die. And neither will you."

Hades sighs in resignation. "I didn't want to tell you this. I was waiting. Once you're 18, you don't have to go with me. I figured, I'd wait until then, and go back in time and stop your mother from doing what she did. Damned be the consequences. I don't care what happens to me."

Eliana smiles sadly with new understanding and shakes her head in misery. "Well then Dad, I guess it's lucky for both of us that I do care what happens to you. You aren't going to be doing that. Uncle Zeus said you couldn't alter what happened. He didn't say Norah couldn't. He didn't say I couldn't. I only needed you to bring me here because you forced me to leave without Norah. With her, I can get home, without you, if necessary. She straightens her spine and squares her slender shoulders, standing as tall as possible. "I'm going in there. You can go with me, or you can go home."

"Do you have to be so stubborn?"

"Apparently so, yes."

Hades sighs drolly and hisses. "Fine, but you aren't going in there alone."

Eliana drops the hands resting on her hips to her sides. "Fine!" She counters with no less emotion. "Because I will, but I don't really want to go in there by myself." She reaches for, and clings tightly to, her father's hand once again. Boldly, in spite of her humming nerves, she marches for the entrance. On the way, she whistles softly, catching the attention of an enemy combatant with a supremely unfair height advantage over a dwarf who appears to be attempting to win the conflict by confusing and toppling his adversary who is by far the better swordsman. Smiling sweetly, she blows a flirtatious kiss, whispering provocatively, "Night-night," before waving her hand through the air.

The swordsman stares at her, caught somewhere between smitten and alarmed until his knees suddenly buckle and he drops to the ground in an unconscious heap, heavy as an anvil, and begins snoring loudly.

Grumpy eyes his fallen adversary with blatant astonishment before he manages to grumble his thanks.

Hades stares at his daughter with a mixture of disbelief and pride. "Where did you learn how to do that?"

Eliana shrugs as if she hasn't a care in the world. "Hey, you're the one who keeps telling me that I am my mother's daughter. if she can put a lion, a tin man, and a scarecrow to sleep with poppies…"

Hades nods with self-deprecation. He should have known.

"Only trouble is, I still need to be close enough to see them with my eyes, I can't do it from a great distance, at least not yet anyway. No time like the present for a little practice."

"So, why didn't you do that earlier before they tried to hang you?"

"I told you. I got too scared. I'm not the best horsewoman. They snatched me up and one of them forced me onto that horse and took off at a full gallop. I panicked. It doesn't work when I panic."

"Then, but not now?" Hades asks as Eliana waves her hand and a dozen more soldiers are suddenly stunned mid-action. Five of their opponents use their momentary paralysis against them and attack even before they fall. The rest simply drop, against their will, into a deep dreamless slumber.

She shrugs and shakes her head. "Of course, not now. I have nothing to panic about. You're with me now. Nothing is going to happen to me."

The pair of them march forward, with Eliana putting people to sleep ambidextrously. No matter which direction they approach from, if her right hand doesn't render them unconscious, the left one does. Hades makes a diligent effort to stay two steps ahead of her and finds it a rather difficult task. No matter where he takes up his post, his daughter is constantly moving to his left or to his right. And, because she is displaying greater control over her power than he was aware she possessed, he is both chest-thumping proud and supremely annoyed in the same moment.

Her immortal one-man protection detail, Hades grouses loudly above the din of fighting. "Will you please stay behind me?" He makes no effort to keep the flint out of his voice as he guides her through rooms that were once grand but are now filled with smoke thick enough to choke any human, and dead or dying bodies that soak the priceless carpets with their life's blood.

Eliana shakes her head as she shrugs with only the slightest bit of contrition. "That's not a good idea, Dad. I'm assuming you don't want me to put you to sleep."

As they step into the palace, Eliana is slightly hesitant and slow to start. As they move she picks up confidence; her godly powers nullifying the threat from a greater number of enemy combatants with each flick of her wrists.

With each room they clear, she stops, turns, and magically seals the entrance preventing any further intrusion by additional troops. They move slowly, picking up speed as the number of potential assailants drop dramatically.

They stay their course, heading toward the grand hall and the loudest sounds of heavy fighting. Once there, they find only a few dozen combatants and twice as many friendly faces.

As a half-dozen Black Knights battle their way through a band of weary attackers, Eliana catches a fleeting glimpse of a very familiar shade of dark hair and feels herself renewed by a sudden rush of excitement. They are escorting someone across the floor. Keeping their charge safe from harm as they move and because this person is shielded from view, and the room is hazy with smoke, Eliana takes a stab at the two most likely options available. "Norah… Aunt Regina!"

There's a momentary flicker of indecision amid the clashing of swords and then a familiar commanding voice rings out above the din. "Stop!"

For one brief moment the room falls as silent as an ancient burial crypt.

The Black Knights reluctantly reverse their direction, their strident protests falling on deaf ears as the queen attempts to push her way beyond them until she gives them no choice but to form a new cluster encompassing her niece and brother-in-law as well. Quickly taking Eliana by the hand, Regina chastises in confusion. "You came back? Eliana, why would you come back?" Regina eyes Hades with rampant accusation visible in her eyes. "Why would you bring her back… to this?" She gestures to the room around her as the battle picks up again. "Hades, Zelena is going to have your head."

Aware that they've traveled back in time, aware that they would find her here, Hades still stares at his sister-in-law with a momentary flicker of incredulous disbelief. She's standing alive and well before him. He expected to find her here, yet the sight of her still makes him feel as if he's cognitively aware of his own hallucination. For a second,, he is on the verge of snapping snidely. "Nice to see you too, Regina! We can leave if you'd rather." But the words die on his tongue. Every other thought in his mind evaporates like the early morning dew, leaving the grass as the day's temperature rises. "Zelena? She's here?"

Regina squints suspiciously as if the god before her might only be a mirage; a magical allusion. and then pauses to hurl a massive fireball at their nearest adversary before declaring, "Well, of course, she's here. You know that Hades. Or you're supposed to know that. Why don't you know that? What's wrong with you?"

Regina shakes her head, mentally correcting herself. There's no time to wait for his response so she plows on, ordering firmly, "Never mind! It doesn't matter. Take Eliana to the library now; as quickly as you can. There's a hidden exit. Go quickly. We're about to set charges. This place is coming down! We'll meet you there."

Hades stares in speechless wonder as his daughter's blue eyes grow wide and she shakes her head adamantly. "Aunt Regina, no! You can't destroy this place! I know it looks awful right now but it's nothing that can't be fixed."

Regina smiles sadly. "I'm afraid it can't be helped, Elia. We're outnumbered. I'm beyond tired. I'm putting too much stress on baby Norah, and she and I aren't the only ones feeling the burn. The rest of our group has pushed the limit as well. This has been going on all night. It'll be dawn in less than two hours."

"But Aunt Regina, everyone behind us is out cold. No more will be coming in. You can manage the stragglers; can't you? I'm here to help. Use me."

Regina's tired dark eyes go wide, and she breathes deeply as she squeezes her niece's hands gently and looks to Eliana’s father; unwilling to accept the offer without his consent.

When he sighs in resignation and nods without a word, Regina kisses her niece's forehead quickly, brusquely before moving to plant a similar kiss on her brother-in-law's cheek.

Eliana laughs in bold merriment as her stunned father cringes in obvious disgust, but before he can voice his intense displeasure, a familiar voice rises above the turmoil.

"Sister!"

The queen and her armed escorts turn in response. Her knights ready to slay or be slain, as Regina catches two rapidly approaching foes by surprise. She hurls a thunderous explosion of white power from the palm of her right hand, a mere fraction of a second before throwing its dark rival from the palm of her left, hitting both men squarely in the chest, lifting their feet from the floor and sending them flying even as their hearts beat for the last time.

Across the darkened war-torn hall, Regina makes eye contact with her sister only to realize that the threat she intercepted was not the one Zelena was calling attention to.

As Hades steps in his wife's direction blind to everything else around him, Zelena points, directing her sister's attention elsewhere and when Regina turns again, glancing over her shoulder, unable to pinpoint exactly what she is meant to, Zelena intuitively understands her confusion, and a magical arc of green flame in the shape of a flowing directional arrow bursts forth from his wife's outstretched fingertip, guiding her sister's eyes to the proper place.

As Regina catches sight of Nottingham, across the expanse of the room, he slips, otherwise undetected, through an archway and vanishes from sight. Instantly, she charges in his direction, forcing her knights to move along with her and simultaneously impeding Hades's process.

"Zelena!" He screams even though his wife is moving in their direction. When he is unable to force his way beyond the cluster of knights around him, he clutches at his daughter's hand hard enough to make her wince and vanishes only to reappear an instant later at his wife's side. Unable to stop himself, he throws his arms around her. "Zelena, my love, my goddess…"

When she pushes free of his embrace and eyes him with uncertainty, he looks more whipped than a misbehaving puppy that has just been whacked soundly across the nose with a rolled-up newspaper.

"Hades, what are you doing here? I thought you said this was none of your concern… Not your problem… I thought you were staying home with the baby?"

Uninterested in competing with the rest of the room for his wife's much-needed attention, Hades sighs dramatically and lifts both hands into the air and snaps his fingers. To hell with the consequences. Zeus can kiss his ass.

"Yes well, that was the younger, happier, more selfish me, and … I brought the baby with me." He nods his head in Eliana's direction as every adversary in the room drops to the floor. Some of them snoring loudly while others roll onto their sides and curl into fetal positions. He breathes deeply with quiet relief. "It's a long story, my love." He stares in utter adoration while his redheaded wife pivots her gaze between the two of them and then glares at him as if he's lost his mind.

The black palace falls silent except for the hushed sound of booted feet scuffling in confusion as the people of Storybrooke find themselves at a loss. Suddenly they have no one left to fight. In the silence, adrenaline courses through veins of those left standing, and they look around squinting through the smoke and carnage, at a complete and utter loss for what to do next.

Hades takes his wife by the hand and slowly moves to the corner of the grand hall that is least populated by fallen enemy troops. All he wants to do is hold her. All she wants is an explanation for the unsettling way he's looking at her.

"I'll explain everything."

"Yes, you will." Zelena nods adamantly. "And you will start by explaining how our daughter aged more than a decade in the span of less than twelve hours."

"It's only been twelve hours for you. It's been more than twelve years since I last saw you smile, my love."

Zelena's scowls in bewilderment and looks to the young girl who is very nearly a mirror image of her younger self.

Eliana nods sadly and folds Zelena into a warm gentle embrace with a single heart-wrenching word. "Mum."

Zelena's scarcely returns the hug before she gently pushes free and searches her daughter's blue eyes. In a hushed voice she declares with forced patience, as their neighbors began to gather around, "You two had better explain all this to me."

Hades nods ready and willing to comply with her every request, but before he does that the minor matter of their current location must be dealt with. He's most certainly not going to have this conversation with his beloved standing in the middle of what amounts to a slaughterhouse killing floor. With the snap of his fingers the entire ground floor of the Black Palace is fully restored to all its dark resplendent glory, sans the piles of dead or sleeping bodies, the armaments, and the ghastly perfume of smoke, singed flesh, blood and death.

Turning their heads left and right, looking around in nothing less than mind-numbing awe, David and Snow approach cautiously leading a group of their friends as Hades escorts his wife and daughter to an elegant chaise lined with velvet cushions.

"What happened? Where did everybody go?" Snow inquires in a whisper, as if a normal speaking voice might somehow bring all the fallen enemy troops and their destruction back.

Hades shrugs. "I sent them away."

"Away where?" She asks; still whispering before she gasps, a hand rising to her throat as an unbearable thought occurs to her. "Hades please tell me you did not send all those people directly to Tartarus!"

Suddenly confused by her tone, he raises a disapproving eyebrow. "What do you care? Those so-called people are your enemies." He sneers. "They are after your kingdom!"

Snow pants tiredly and wipes soot and sweat from her forehead with the back of a forearm. "Yes, and we have the right to defend ourselves, this palace, and this kingdom, but I will not allow you to treat even prisoners of war inhumanly Hades. They are still people!"

Hades snaps rudely, "You can relax, Princess. I have harmed no one. I simply evicted them from the palace grounds. If you'll look, you will find them all beyond that magical shield we penetrated when we came in."

David trots to the nearest window as the dark god continues speaking and verifies what they've been told with a silent nod of his head.

"If I'm not mistaken, I believe that magical shield to be at least partly my wife's handiwork – hers and Regina's, I daresay. Now, if you don't mind, I am trying to have a conversation with my wi…"

Snow holds up a hand cutting him off as she quickly surveils the grand hall once more with a sweeping gaze. "Where is Regina?" She demands as more of their friends and neighbors, including Robin and his daughter join them from elsewhere in the palace.

Hades shrugs unconvincingly and Robin glowers repugnantly as he steps uncomfortably close. "You heard the lady. Where is Regina? Don't make me ask again?"

Before catastrophe can strike, Zelena rolls her eyes and interrupts. "I don't know precisely where she is. She went that way…" Zelena points. "with her guards. She was chasing after Nottingham."

Robin's face goes hard as heat creeps visibly up his neck, and tightly controlled rage puts steal in his voice. "And you just let her go… By herself!" He turns on his heel and leaves the room on winged feet. He mutters under his breath. "Bloody hell!" before he shouts his wife's name and disappears through a wide archway with his daughter at his side and Snow, David and a band of benevolent warriors charging after them.

Chuckling quietly, Zelena shakes her head in amazement. "Honestly, the way he carries on, you would think my sister is defenseless."

Hades shrugs and quietly offers, "He loves her."

Zelena's scowls. "Am I hearing things or did you just express empathy for a thief."

Hades chuckles. "We're not ever going to get together on Sundays to watch football, but let's just say that he and I have come to a new mutual understanding."

* * *

Elsewhere in the palace, George Nottingham's mouth breaks into a wide greedy smile as he lays eyes on an object he has long coveted. Feeling positively giddy with delight he forces himself not to run to the back wall of the palace's most renowned room. Instead, he walks slowly with measured steps through the center of a breathtaking room lined with stained-glass windows; his dusty boots making no sound against the lush black carpeting lined with a wide shimmering border of silver and white.

He steps up onto the raised dais slowly, trying desperately to ignore the tingling sensation in the palms of his hands as he denies himself the satisfaction of rubbing them together in triumph.

He is but a single step away from turning and lowering himself onto the luxurious black satin cushions nestled in the royal seat of a strikingly beautiful throne cast in white gold when a wall of superheated flames suddenly erupts in the narrow space between himself and his goal.

He jumps back narrowly escaping cremation, stumbling and nearly falling on his ass as a stern, unforgiving voice he hasn't heard for many years rings out from the back of the gallery," I would not do that if I were you."

He freezes where he is, his left foot a step higher than his right. His spine stiffens. Without daring to move, without daring to even glance over his shoulder he calls out snidely, "And why is that?"

"Because not only are you out of your jurisdiction, but that throne does not belong to you, Sheriff. That throne is mine."

The greasy smile finds its way back to his face and stretches even wider than before. "Such formality, Regina? After the night we could've shared?"

Cold laughter assaults his ears, and he knows she's closing the distance between them. "Still flattering yourself, George?"

He growls deep in his throat. He was so close. Sighing heavily, he makes a show of holding his arms out to his sides. He maintains the pose for what he assumes is a deceptive moment before drawing his sword in a flourish of motion as he whirls to face her.

Eye to eye, her cold assault on his ears becomes a very personal affront to his manhood as his jaw drops at the sight of the queen standing before him in the center of the gallery, coming closer with every step and laughing at him, her middle undeniably heavy with child.

"It seems you managed without me. Your mother would be so pleased. Too bad. I've heard, she's no longer here to enjoy such a blessed occurrence."

Regina glares insidiously, her voice little more than a dark whisper. "Spare me the insincere drivel, won't you?"

"Why should I spare you a damn thing after the way you humiliated me."

"I humiliated you?" Regina shakes her head. "You humiliated yourself."

"Oh really? All I did was offer to fill a royal's lonely desires. Nothing more. How, pray tell, did every person in six kingdoms suddenly come to possess the knowledge that you had rejected me? How did our private rendezvous become fodder for the public gossip mill?"

Regina scowls as if there is suddenly a vulgar taste in her mouth. "I have no idea. I certainly never told a soul. I wouldn't want a single person thinking I sank so low as to ever lie down with the likes of you."

"You smug evil bitch!"

Cold laughter rises deep in the back of Regina's throat yet again, but before she can utter a single word, Robin is through the door and rushing past her.

In one quicksilver move he grabs the wrist holding Nottingham's sword and sends his angry clenched fist crashing into the center of Nottingham's face. Cartlidge crunches loudly and disintegrates as bright cherry-red blood erupts from the pulverized lump of flesh that used to be his nose. His strangled yelp comes out as nothing more than a wet gurgle, and he drops his sword and sinks to his knees. His eyes rolling back in his head, the whites of his eyes becoming disturbingly visible. As sweet darkness claims him, he topples over backward, and Robin growls, "You will not speak to my wife that way!"

Regina's eyes widen slightly, but she says nothing at first.

Breathing hard, Robin does battle with the urge to kick the flaccid body at his feet before he turns to his wife. "Are you okay, love?"

She eyes him with blatant curiosity. "I'm fine. Are you?"

Robin nods and shrugs as he flashes his best smile. "I'm bloody marvelous!"

She laughs and gestures toward Nottingham's body as she glances over her shoulder at their friends gathered in the doorway before returning her eyes to Robin's face. "I was starting to think watching him dodge fireballs would be fun. Your way works too."

"Robin winks and shrugs. "Far be it for me to deprive a lady of fun. I'll wake him up if you want me to."

Regina shakes her head as she steps up onto the dais and lowers herself deliberately into the seat that their unconscious adversary has only just tried to steal. "Let him sleep… for now."

In quiet triumph, Snow smiles from the back of the gallery. "Welcome home, Your Majesty."

Smiling wryly, Regina widens her dark eyes as she releases an agitated sigh. She eyes George Nottingham's unsightly prone body lying on the floor of her beautiful throne room. "I'm told there's no place like it."


	11. Chapter 11

* * *

**Enchanted Forest**

**Present Day**

**The Black Palace**

With the battle won and Hades, Zelena, and Eliana as their magical cleanup crew, Robin and Snow join King Henry in the library along with Emma to tend to people's war wounds. Regina busies herself with seeing to the palace's security needs in the aftermath of bloodshed. She visits the library frequently, checking on the welfare of friends and neighbors. As previously declared by Hades, every member of Nottingham's army, dead or alive, has been evicted from the premises; save one. Those who are capable of walking away on their own two feet are left to do so when they wake outdoors sore, disheveled, and wet because, much to their misfortune, in the hour before dawn it begins to rain heavily.

With a third of her Black Knights standing guard and the remaining 2/3 trading shifts between rest and the unpleasant task of tending to the dead, the queen visits the dungeon where she issues a formal proclamation that holds no benefit of compromise. She does not stay long; no longer than it takes to issue a warning she has no intention of repeating. Her prisoner is snide and uncooperative. So, she leaves him in his dank dark prison cell with nothing more than a tattered blanket and straw on the floor for warmth. It's been a warm night, with the humidity and rain, his prison walls will sweat, and the air inside will become oppressive. Maybe, after a day's isolation in his inhospitable cell with only himself for company, he will be more cooperative.

On her way to the northern wing, she passes Snow and David in one of the wide corridors and discreetly pretends she didn't happen upon the two of them embracing, and lost in quiet conversation that was obviously meant for their ears only.

She's more than ten feet away when Snow calls quietly, "Sleep well. We put the girls just down the hall from the royal suite. Robin wanted to keep Norah close."

Beyond tired, beyond any desire for talking, Regina glances over her shoulder with only the slightest smile and a wave to indicate her understanding. She's half afraid that if she stops moving she won't start again.

In the Northern wing of the palace, she passes a door that is slightly ajar. Coming from within, she hears the faintest murmur of young female voices and pokes her head inside to find Norah and Eliana with freshly scrubbed faces and hair that shines due to recent brushing; both of them are nestled into one of the largest beds in the palace. The bed linen and everything else in the room is fresh, bright, and fit for young royalty.

"Well, it looks as if you two have made yourselves at home."

Norah smiles but observes quietly as Eliana is the first to speak. "Mum did it. We didn't even have to ask. She just did it. I even got to talk to her for a whole four minutes and 42 seconds before Dad stole her and whisked her away somewhere down the hall." She turns her head left to right taking in the sight of all their elegant white furnishings upholstered in cerulean blue fabrics and accompanied by other, equally vibrant, accent colors that give the room balance and depth. "It's pretty; isn't it?"

Regina nods. "It's a beautiful room. Did the two of you want to share? You can have your own space if you'd like. There's certainly enough room."

Eliana shrugs with a smile, while a quiet Norah shakes her head adamantly. "I've never been here before, Mom. I don't need a room all to myself, especially not one that's bigger than grant's tomb. Besides, El and I don't usually get to do the slumber party thing. Not that we're really in the mood now; we're too tired, but this is good. We can share."

"Alright, as long as you're comfortable."

They both nod eagerly.

"Aunt Regina?"

Regina raises an inquiring eyebrow.

Eliana looks around the room again. "Did you tell Mum about my blue cloak?

Regina shakes her head gently and answers intuitively. "No, I didn't. But, It is your favorite color. Even I know that, and judging by what we've been told, your mom was around a little longer than me. I'm sure she knows."

The redhead nods thoughtfully. "She's been gone most of my life. To me, it feels special; like she remembered all that time. I keep forgetting, she hasn't had time to forget."

"It's still special. It doesn't matter how much time does or doesn't pass. Once a mom knows something about her child, she never forgets. She carries little things like that with her always."

"That's really nice." Eliana eyes her silent cousin with intent and when eye contact is not enough, she elbows her in the ribs.

Norah grimaces and hisses. "Hey, what was that for?"

Eliana rolls her eyes and informs her aunt. "She likes green and purple. But her favorite color is this funny shade that is mostly pink with just a hint of purple mixed in. She won't tell most people that though because she thinks it's too soft and girly."

Regina nods. "Thanks for the Intel. Mine's…

"An icy shade of lavender." Norah interrupts with a hesitant whisper. "Daddy told me."

Regina nods slowly and offers her obviously uncomfortable daughter a tentative smile. "Apparently daughters don't forget either."

Norah shakes her head and offers only fleeting eye contact, but she does manage to skillfully block the second elbow headed for her ribs courtesy of her cousin.

"Eliana, I know you mean well, and I'm pretty sure Norah knows that too, but stop pushing. If you have to nudge her, don't do it quite so stiffly. This is a little weird."

Eliana scowls with uncertainty. "Really? Why? I think it's great! And she was determined to do it. Now that you're standing here, for some weird reason, she's gone all quiet and mousy."

"Honey, that's because however fuzzy they may be, you actually do have at least a few memories of your mother. Memories that are yours, and yours alone. This is a little different. The only things she knows about me are the things she's been told. I'm well aware that not all the things she may have heard were kind or particularly easy on the ears." Regina steps closer and settles one hip on the foot of the bed and rests a hand gently on top of the blanket directly over her daughter's left foot. Softly, she whispers, "That, and I'm just guessing here, but I'm thinking that maybe she's just a tiny bit afraid that this little trip through time may not have the desired effect. If that's the case, then maybe going back home after meeting me here will be just that much harder."

Norah lifts her gaze. "I'm sorry." She wrinkles her nose. "Sort of helps that you think it's weird too."

Regina laughs dryly. "It's very weird. I'm sitting here looking at you, talking to you, and right this very minute you're playing kickball with my bladder."

"Ouch!" Norah offers with empathy.

"You're telling me! So yes, it's weird. It's also beautiful, and I'm glad you're here."

"You were mad at me earlier."

"Because you put yourself in danger… For me. I don't want you to do that. Not ever. It doesn't mean that you're not wanted, or that I'm not happy to see you."

Norah nods. "Okay. But now that you know, what are you going to do? I guess I never really thought about it beyond just telling you. Maybe I shouldn't have. Maybe I just made it worse."

"Worse how?"

"What if there's nothing you can do? What if all I've really accomplished is just making you worry about it. That's no good."

Regina laughs softly. "You think I've just now started worrying because you showed up with some bad news. Norah, it doesn't work that way. Moms worry from day one. We worry from the moment the home pregnancy test turns pink."

"Sounds awful."

"it's torture. Magnificent torture."

"So, what are we going to do?"

"We will do what we have to do. We will do the best we can. Above all else, we will do what you need us to do. And that's why I'm going to get up, walk down the hall, slip into bed beside your father and go to sleep. Because right now…" Regina pauses to rub her swollen belly. "That's what you need me to do to keep you safe and healthy."

"Is Daddy really okay? He said he was but…he came to check on us about half an hour ago. He's kind of banged up."

"That happens when war breaks out in your living room. Don't worry about your dad. I'll patch him up, I promise."

She makes it to the door before Norah reclaims her attention. "Mom?"

"Uh hmm?"

"Who's gonna patch you up?"

"That's your dad's job. Stop worrying. Go to sleep."

* * *

"How long does she have?"

"Until Norah is born. Something went wrong with the delivery."

Zelena lifts her head off her husband's bare shoulder. Scowling, she smacks him soundly on the chest. "Hades! She could go into labor any second now. Have you looked at her? She's ready to pop! The stork is circling the airport, landing gear down. Don't you think you could have led with that little bit of information; or at the very least, mentioned it before now."

Hades wraps an arm around his wife's shoulder and squeezes her affectionately and places his other hand over hers as her fingertips trace lazy patterns in his chest hair. In the first rays of morning sunlight through sheer curtains over the balcony door, her vibrant hair is a glorious red-golden mess, her pale skin glistens faintly with a delicate layer of perspiration brought on by recent lovemaking, a matching pair of luxurious bath towels lay in a heap on the floor where they landed earlier, she is tired from a long night of battling with Nottingham's goons; the first telltale signs of dark circles appearing under her eyes and, to him, she has never looked more ravishing.

"Sorry, there was so much to tell you. I tried not to forget anything… I just… got distracted for a little while."

Zelena's smiles like the cat who swallowed the proverbial canary. "Is that what you call it. Getting distracted. I'm sorry for any pain my absence caused, but if this is the way you behave after a 12-year absence, perhaps I'll… Go on vacation every now and again."

"No, you won't. At least not without me. I'm never letting you out of my sight again, love."

"Not even for a long weekend vacation?"

"Not even for a millisecond."

"Zelena wrinkles her nose. "That could be problematic."

"Well, you'll just have to work your way around it. I'm never taking my eyes off of you again."

She falls silent for a long moment. Long enough to make him jostle her ever so gently.

"What?" He inquires, puzzled by a look on her face that implicates intense thought. They are much too close, and much too warm in the afterglow of connubial bliss for any serious contemplation.

"Oh, nothing." She offers him a teasing smile. "I was just mentally making a to-do list. Find a way to prevent sister's death. Help husband overcome severe abandonment issues and twelve years of separation anxiety. There's just one thing I don't understand. Why has it been twelve years? I know you. You would've done anything, traveled anywhere, kicked over every rock necessary until you found a way to get me back. In fact, I'm willing to bet, that thought probably entered my mind. Or will enter my mind… I'm not sure which tense to use. For you, it's already been done. But I haven't done it yet… But I'm sure I thought, it'll Be okay. If this goes wrong, Hades will fix it. I mean, obviously I don't remember thinking that, but if I did what you say I did… I must have thought it."

"The warden wouldn't let me."

"Zeus?"

Hades nods. "My time spent in New York before Eliana was born was probationary. Afterward, for her sake, he allowed me to spend time in Storybrooke. After your death, he made it perfectly clear that I was not to interfere with what was. Not then, not now, not ever. He said he'd send me back permanently. Our daughter is the only reason I didn't tell him to go screw himself. I was waiting for her 18th birthday. Once she comes into her full power, once I knew she would be safe without me, I was going to go back and find you. To hell with the consequences. Eliana just forced me to move up my timetable. She's very attached to Regina's daughter. I had no choice. It was this or lose her. I know there will be held to pay. I don't care. I did it for my daughter. I did it for you. I don't know why Zeus hasn't pulled me out of here yet, but until he does, I'm going to lie here and stare at you."

"Just stare at me? Is that all?"

"Unless you're up for round two?"

"Darling, you've lost count. Next would be round three. You couldn't even wait for me to get out of the tub, remember? And I'm beginning to see why Regina gave us our own wing of the palace?"

"Really? I hadn't noticed. We have an entire wing to ourselves?"

Zelena nods. "I may have mentioned to Regina once that you are a rather enthusiastic lover. And apparently Eliana has informed her that, in my absence, you've taken a vow of chastity. It seems that my sister doesn't want us disturbing everyone else in the palace."

Hades groans dismally.

"What’s the matter?"

"Eliana would tell her that!"

"It's not true?"

"Oh, I suppose it's true enough. "I mean, you understand I never made a formal declaration regarding that fact, but… for some reason, a great many of our friends and acquaintances seem to be very concerned about that fact. After a few years of moping around, Zeus offered to 'get me a girl!" Hades sighs with aggravation. "And our daughter… Last year, she signed me up for an account on some kind of dating service called Tinder. She went so far is to build me something called a profile. Apparently, people get together via an app on their phones…"

Zelena chews heavily on her bottom lip but she can't keep herself from laughing.

"And 'hook up.' Whatever that means."

She lets go and laughs until she's trembling in his arms with tears glistening in the corners of her eyes while he stares at her with a quizzically raised eyebrow. "That's not a dating service, my love. The word 'date' implies… dinner, conversation, maybe a little ambiance. On Tinder, people connect through the app on their phones to 'hook up' for anonymous sex."

"Ohh… She is so grounded … Just as soon as we get home."

Zelena laughs even harder when he lifts his head off the pillow and nips at her lower lip and murmurs something about hooking up with her.

* * *

Robin wakes to the glare of noonday sunlight streaming in through the open balcony doors. For a moment, he thinks nothing of it. He buries his face in his pillow and refuses to move. He refuses to do anything other than lie still and enjoy the feel of luxurious bed linens and the warmth of his wife's soft tantalizing breathing against his shoulder blade.

It occurs to him in the same moment that he realizes he didn't leave the balcony doors open before going to bed, that he also feels absolutely no pain, soreness, or for that matter, even stiffness related to last night's battle. When he had fell into bed a few hours ago, his body had been a veritable road map of bruises, yet he cannot feel a solitary twinge or ache.

Stretching, he reaches behind himself and splays a wide gentle hand atop Regina's belly. his touch is well received with a healthy kick courtesy of the pint-sized, yet-to-be-born version of his daughter.

Regina murmurs softly in her sleep but offers no other response.

Robin tosses off the top sheet that is his only cover, surprised to find himself wearing nothing more than his boxer briefs. He distinctly remembers struggling to pull off his boots before collapsing backward onto the bed, too tired to care about the rest of his clothing. Still seated on the edge of the mattress, he stretches his arms, holding them out in front of himself to their full length and turns them this way and that, inspecting them closely, along with his chest, his sides, his legs and the tops of his bare feet. He glances at his reflection in the full-length rectangular mirror with its dark rich mahogany frame, standing in the farthest corner of the room. He touches his own face, surprised to find it entirely bruise-free. He stands, and turns his back to the mirror, craning his neck awkwardly to complete his inspection. Despite last night's distinct memories to the contrary, there isn't a single scratch on him. He's puzzled by this for all of two seconds until he actually looks at his sleeping wife. He doesn't remember her coming into the room this morning. He must have fallen asleep wearing everything but his boots. She undoubtedly had come in, opened the balcony doors, trying to relieve the room of some of last night’s rain-induced humidity, and while he had slept, she'd obviously undressed him, healed his various aches and pains, and then collapsed beside him, too tired to see to her own needs; or even her own clothing for that matter. She had stretched out beside him, on top of the heavy down comforter and sleep had claimed her in the same condition that it had claimed him.

The breeze through the open balcony door brings with it the fragrance of passion flowers, as Robin carefully moves her to the side of the bed he just vacated, where the bed linens are still warm with his own body heat. He subjects her to the same gentle treatment she had bestowed upon him. He removes, boots and stockings first, before sliding his hands around behind her and blindly seeking the clasp at the small of her back with nimble fingers. Gently he tugs her leather trousers off and drops them to the floor. He loosens the metallic silver clasps on the front of her vest and begins bunching the loose-fitting fabric of her silver silk tunic up, attempting to push it over her hips. When he glances up to find a pair of warm sleepy dark eyes silently observing his every move, he smiles.

"Are you just going to lay there and let me do all the work?"

She nods, the corners of her mouth lifting ever so slightly with a languid smile as she stretches beneath his touch.

Taking both her wrists in one hand, he gently tugs her into a sitting position and she lets him ease her out of her vest before she wraps her arms around his lower back and falls backward, pulling him back into bed along with her.

She holds tight, keeping him close, and the best he can do is rearrange himself slightly, settling most of his weight on the mattress beside her so that she isn't entirely pinned beneath him. "I take it this means we aren't getting up yet?"

She shakes her head and snuggles closer.

Robin adjusts the pillow beneath his head and then folds his arms around her. "Fine by me, Your Majesty, but you know that it's after noon and this palace is full of people, right?"

His wife shrugs without a word.

He kisses the top of her head and breathes quietly. "We need to make our way to Covarrachia and Elyria. The sooner we see what damage he's done, the sooner we can get you home."

Regina nods.

Robin glances at the unblemished spot on her arm where he knows she was wounded the night before. There's no evidence that the injury ever occurred. "Are you hurt anywhere?"

She shakes her head.

"Drummond and his boys; they took pretty fine care of you?"

She nods and runs a protective hand over her belly.

Robin smiles and although he already knows the answer he asks. "Are you going to talk to me?"

In place of a verbal response, her eyes smolder with a heated flash of desire and she offers him a hungry kiss that speaks of more things than words ever will.

An hour and ½ later he lies on his side propped up on one elbow and watches her put the finishing touches to her hair and makeup. Leaving her vanity, she approaches the bed once more and leans forward, resting her weight on the mattress with her hands to the left and right of his torso. She offers him a teasing feather-light kiss the instant before her dark eyes flash with mild impatience. "You have to get up."

Smiling broadly, he feigns surprise and announces merrily, "She speaks! The queen has found her voice!"

She offers him a sultry smirk. "Funny, despite the lack of vocabulary, you didn't seem to have any trouble understanding me. Come to think of it, you never do; regardless of what condition my vocal cords are in."

"I just think it's highly impressive that I find you somehow even more commanding without the use of words."

She attempts to idly smooth his sleep-tousled hair as she quietly flirts. "In that case, I promise to not talk to you again sometime in the very near future. But for now, you need to get up. I took all the palace staff with me to Storybrooke last night for safety's sake, remember? That means no one is downstairs in the kitchens. Not only do we have a palace full of people here, we have no housekeeping staff to see to them, and your wife and unborn daughter are nearly desperate for food. There's a palace to be secured and a journey we must prepare for. That, and it's been several hours since the last time I checked on him. Maybe I will find my prisoner in a more cooperative mood."

"You've seen him? Talked to him?"

She nods. "Briefly. This morning before coming up to bed. He was very disagreeable. So, I left him with only himself and the four walls of his cage for company. Maybe he's feeling more chatty now."

"I'd rather you not go down there alone, Regina."

"There are always at least two guards and he's in irons behind a locked door. What exactly are you afraid he's going to do to me? I know he's sleazy, but he is still just a mortal."

"I don't care. And it's the sleazy part that has me most worried, you shouldn't have to be around that."

"If I let you come with me are you going to punch him again?"

"Probably!" Robin answers with a note of hostile honesty, then laughs when she raises an eyebrow as if she's seriously contemplating the possibility of inviting him along just for the pleasure of watching it happen. "Do you keep gladiators around just for your own private entertainment, mi'lady?"

Regina wrinkles her nose in disgust. "Robin, that's barbaric!" She chews on her bottom lip momentarily before admitting quietly. "Besides, it wouldn't work. Not for me. Apparently, I only find it pleasing when it's you who lays somebody out cold."

"Oh really? Is that so?"

"Yes, but don't start dashing into the fray unnecessarily on my account. If someone else were to get the upper hand and turn the tables on you, I'm likely to lose any semblance of self-restraint and commit murder."

"Well, we can't have that. What exactly are we going to do with old George?"

"Legally speaking; we can execute him for treason, sentence him to life in prison, or exile him. However, the last option just makes him someone else's problem. It also gives him the option to regroup, rebuild, and return for more. Personally, I'd like to turn him into the horny little sewer rat he is and feed him to an anaconda; but I suppose that's morally questionable. It might even be considered cruel and unusual punishment for the snake. The right thing to do might be to leave Snow in charge here and let her convene a public inquest to determine his fate."

When her stomach grumbles noisily, he lifts one of her hands from the mattress and slips naked out of bed. "Finish getting dressed. I won't be long. Let's go downstairs to the kitchens and we'll talk to Snow, David, and your father while I make you and the firefly something to eat. After that, we can decide where we go next, who stays, and who's going with us.

Regina nods. "As much as I would like to keep her with us.…" She stops him on his way to her private bath. "If at all possible, we need to convince the older version of our daughter to go home where she belongs because the older version of you is probably frantic over her disappearance."

When Robin raises a thoughtful eyebrow Regina adds, "I don't imagine she told you of her plans. If she had, she would've had a much harder time getting here."

Robin scowls. "I don't disagree, love. However, that might be easier said than done. She is every bit as stubborn as someone else I know and love.”

* * *

Twenty-five minutes later, Robin and Regina descend the grand staircase and step onto the first-floor landing arm in arm. Pausing for a moment, Regina listens for the sound of voices and then follows said sound into the solarium. From the archway, she and Robin find their friends seated around a large circular table laughing and talking over elegant bowls filled to their steaming brims with some fragrant and obviously spicy concoction.

When Regina raises a curious eyebrow, Snow volunteers, "Since the palace is secure once again, I went back to Storybrooke a few hours ago; just long enough to bring most of the palace staff back home. I figured it would be easier than expecting Granny and the rest of the town to find them new homes. Most of them came back eagerly. A few of them, who were more curious than frightened by the new unfamiliar world they found themselves in, opted to remain in Storybrooke; at least for the time being."

Nodding, Regina turns on her heel and walks away with Robin at her side.

Moments later, when she steps into the largest and warmest of the four kitchens, it takes a long moment for one of the obviously frightened maids to clear her throat loudly at which point, one of the chefs turns, drops a large copper pot and it clatters to the stone floor unchecked as Regina strides into the room. At one of the stoves, she lifts the lid on a heavy iron soup pot and inhales deeply. Retrieving a bowl for herself and one for Robin from a nearby china hutch, she returns to the stove and eyes the stiff-spined cook standing nearest as she picks up the ladle. "May I?"

For a moment, the cook is too stunned for speech. All he can manage is to nod his head with vigorous consent. When Regina has filled the first of the two bowls and begins to fill the second, he finally stammers in a hoarse whisper, "Y-yes, of course, Maj - Majesty."

While he stares dumbfounded, she helps herself to cutlery and pastry plates before spying a collection of breakfast trays on a nearby shelf and selects one to make her trip back to the solarium easier. Once the tray is loaded, she moves to one of the counters and cuts generous slices of fragrant sourdough bread and helps herself to an assortment of soft cheeses to go with it.

When she turns to face the kitchen staff once again, she finds all eyes on her. Some of them are rampantly curious while others are nothing short of alarmed. "Is the housekeeper, Mrs. Spruce, in residence?"

One of the young maids bears enough fortitude to step forward and curtsy slightly. In a clear level voice, she offers, "Yes, Your Grace. She stepped out to see to the laundry. It's been awhile since we had anyone in residence. She just wants to be certain that everything is seen to properly."

Regina eyes the young blonde with large hazel eyes. "And what is your name, please?"

"I am Matilda but, if it pleases the queen, I prefer to be called Tilly."

"Very well then. Thank you, Tilly. When Mrs. Spruce returns to the kitchens, tell her I require a word with her."

"Yes Ma'am. May I be of service in any other way?"

Regina places a hand against her rounded abdomen, effectively drawing the attention of every person in the room to it. "What I really wants a cup of strong black coffee, but under the circumstances, I think that a cup of stoutly brewed tea would be the better choice.

The hazel eyed girl steps quickly to one of the stoves and uses a heavy woolen dish towel to open the lid of a very large bronze kettle before inserting a long-handled spoon. Drawing it out, she frowns and admits apologetically, "I'm afraid what we've brewed thus far seems rather weak. I'll gladly brew another pot and bring it to you as soon as it's done."

"Yes, please, and my husband…" Regina gestures as she talks, and Robin offers his customary bow reserved for whenever such introductions are made. "Robin of Locksley and Sherwood, would prefer something heavily flavored with bergamot."

Tilly nods dutifully as Regina picks up her tray. "Yes, Your Majesty, right away. Shall I carry that for you?"

Robin shakes his head. "Allow me." He declares lifting the tray from his wife's hands. "We will be in the solarium with the others."

"Yes sir." She offers a slight smile and the instant they are gone from sight the smile collapses as Tilly hisses nervously to the older maid at her left, "Did I do that right? Good lord, I called him sir. Is that appropriate? If he's her husband… Well, I don't even know… Does he have a royal title?"

The shorter maid, who is easily a decade older than the one who prefers to be called Tilly, laughs nervously. "Not unless they've held a coronation we know nothing about. You came on after the curse was cast so, you've never had occasion to meet her. Trust me, had you done anything offensive, you would have no need to ask."

"I've heard you all speak of the queen. Honestly, I don't know what all the fuss was about. She doesn't seem so bad to me. This is the first time I have ever seen anyone of royalty prepare their own meal tray."

The shorter elder maid stares into the empty archway that Regina has just passed through with unmistakable astonishment etching even deeper lines in the furrows around her prim mouth. At a complete loss, she mutters breathlessly, "It's certainly the first time I have ever known Her Majesty, The Queen, to do any such thing; believe you, me! I simply cannot account for it!"

* * *

Less than fifteen minutes later, a middle-aged woman whose cheeks and neck are a healthy shade of pink, squares her shoulders and blows a heated puff of air into sandy-colored bangs that are going slightly gray at the temples, before stepping quietly into the lively solarium with the expected tea service.

"Your tea, Majesty."

"Yes, good afternoon, Mrs. Spruce. Leave the pot."

"But of course." Without wasting a single move, the practiced, efficient housekeeper quickly sets a small serving table easily within the queen's reach, as the dining table is already too heavily laid to accommodate the tea service. She puts her hands behind her back and lowers her gaze to the floor "I am told you wanted a word."

"Yes, we have a prisoner downstairs. See that he gets adequate meals with enough protein, fruit, and vegetables to keep him healthy. Are there any leftovers from yesterday's dinner?"

"Yes, Your Grace." The housekeeper makes an obvious effort not to squint in bewilderment.

"Very well, if you have no other plans for those leftovers he may have them this afternoon. See that he gets something for his supper this evening as well and continue with regular meals until otherwise notified. Is Mr. Stoughton still in the palace's employ?"

The housekeeper nods. "He is, Your Majesty. I believe he's polishing the silver just now. Would you like an audience with him?"

"No, it's not necessary to interrupt his work. Please have him or one of the other older gentlemen deliver meals to Mr. Nottingham down in the dungeon. I don't want any of the ladies subjected to his particular brand of noxious behavior. He can be rather vulgar."

"Understood."

"Do we still maintain a palace physician?"

"But of course. Braithwaite is still with us. Are you and the little one unwell?"

"No, both myself and the baby are quite well at the moment. Our shackled guest downstairs has a very badly broken nose. I'm quite certain he is in considerable pain and possibly having a very hard time breathing as well. Please have the good doctor go down and tend to his maladies. I want him presentable when he stands before this kingdom to answer for his crimes."

"Understood, Majesty," She declares hoping she can avoid sounding like she doesn't understand at all. "will that be all?"

"The stew is delicious, but it could use a slight kick. Are red peppers in season?"

"Not at present, but we do have some pickled green peppers if you would prefer a jar."

"Yes, please, but before you go, how is the staff? Are you in need of anything?"

This time, she can't keep the shock off her face. She's entirely unaccustomed to the queen asking such questions, even one on one, but to do so in the presence of others… She momentarily stammers. "I… Oh…"

Regina simply raises an eyebrow.

"I beg your pardon." The housekeeper clears her throat nervously before steadying her voice. "A few members of the household staff did stay behind in that place you led us to last night. As I don't know if, or when, they will be returning, I'd like your permission to hire at least temporary replacements; especially if anyone here intends to stay on for a bit."

Regina nods. "Very well. I'll leave that to your discretion. You may see me or, in the event that I am unavailable, Princess Snow if you have any future concerns on the matter that you feel require our attention. We have yet to finalize our plans, but I believe she and Prince David will be staying on in my absence, at least for a few days. Mr. Locksley and I must travel to neighboring kingdoms on business, but this kingdom and all of its affairs shall once again fall to her discretion."

Snow smiles politely. "Yes, but this particular palace will remain Her Majesty's choice of residence when she visits, Mrs. Spruce. Household matters will fall to her whenever she is available."

"Very well, then." The housekeeper answers more confused by the second. She half-curtsies and then freezes with indecision.

"Something on your mind, Mrs. Spruce?"

She shakes her head in uncertainty and then launches in. "Forgive me, Majesty, if this is out of turn, but Mr. Hill down at the stables has informed me that a large number of your group has apparently taken up residence there. I'm just a little concerned as to why they would do such a thing. Are they not welcome in the palace?"

The housekeeper squints incredulously when the queen's laughter borders on merriment.

"Those would be the Merry Men, and to answer your question, they are more than welcome inside the palace. An offer was made for more hospitable lodgings than those provided by the stables. You may have noticed that a few of them did accept, and they may have chosen to bed down in unlikely places. I believe I saw one of them asleep on the floor in the west parlor in front of the fireplace this morning. I'm afraid they are accustomed to living in the forest and are no longer comfortable with items as luxurious as our four-poster beds with their feather mattresses. A great many of them prefer the night sky over any more conventional ceiling. Be patient with them. They are unkept, but they are noble miscreants, the lot of them. I may choose to leave a few of them behind if they are willing to help secure the palace, but most of them will be traveling with us when we depart."

Robin smiles. "If they give you any trouble, Little John will help you keep them in line. He's the big loud hairy one. If he gives you any trouble, you just scold him like you're his mum and drag him around by his ear for a few seconds. He'll straighten right up. He doesn't look it, but I promise, he's a very delicate flower."

The housekeeper's eyes go wide as she looks around the room at the lot of them; the pregnant queen, her amiable husband with his pleasing eyes, the strikingly pretty girl in the red cloak, the princess Snow and her charming husband, the redheaded witch and the dark god beside her who wears a smug satisfied smile and hums to himself merrily as he butters his wife's bread for her, the young ladies; unmistakably kin to some of the adults at the table, the dwarves, the fairies, and the young woman with half of her attention on the meal before her and the other half lost in the book she reads.

It's all to unfathomable for words; this odd menagerie of people, and all of them sitting peacefully together in the aftermath of war at the evil queen's dinner table. Will wonders never cease?

* * *

Dr. Braithwaite wonders if the rumors and gossip spreading through the palace like wildfire hold any merit as he eyes his patient and pats the sheet that covers the narrow examination table in his cluttered but well-appointed ground level laboratory situated at the rear of the palace just down the eastern corridor from the kitchens.

Regina settles there, in the spot intended for her, once Robin puts down the fork in his hand and offers his arm for support. Once she's off her feet, he hands the bowl he'd been munching from back to her.

Setting aside his doubts and concerns, the doctor smiles tepidly at his patient. "Is this your dinner, or his?"

Regina shakes her head as she shrugs. It's not dinner. It's just a snack… And it was intended for me…" Regina scowls with irritation at Robin. "But I guess it belongs to both of us now. He helped himself to it while I was changing behind the curtain over there." She indicates the plain serviceable white cotton exam gown she wears.

Robin chuckles drolly as he winks at his wife. "I had two bites. It won't kill you to share, Your Majesty." For the doctor's benefit, he explains, "She's very possessive of her food, especially snacks. She does not like to share at all, not even before the pregnancy! She's into healthy eating, which is good especially considering the fact that, pregnant or not, she has a rather two-fisted eating style. With the onset of pregnancy, I had to start eating better myself because I can't even have a sandwich without her taking a bite."

Relaxing considerably the doctor laughs; his green eyes twinkling merrily beneath thick bushy gray eyebrows. "So, you share with her, but she does not share with you?"

"Rarely! Since meeting her, I've been told to eat what is on my own plate more times than I was ever told as a child." He flashes his smile for his mother's benefit, and Beatrice, in turn, chuckles softly in response to the scene unfolding before her.

Braithwaite examines the content of Regina's bowl curiously. "Spinach leaves, tomatoes, zucchini, feta cheese, pecans and - what are those? Cranberries?"

Regina nods as Robin places an affectionate hand gently against her belly and leans in close for a tender but fleeting kiss that ends even more quickly than he intended when she suddenly releases a soft rush of breath as if she's been unexpectedly jabbed in the ribs with something sharp.

Robin's eyes widen in astonishment at what he feels as his wife grimaces and inhales deeply before closing her eyes.

Standing on the side of the table opposite Robin, the doctor is prompted to place his own hand against her well-rounded abdomen. He whistles softly in response to the explosive flutter of movement he feels beneath her skin as Robin lectures firmly, "Hey, you in there, you stop that right now! You don't have to kick so hard, young lady! That hurts Mama!"

The doctor's eyes go wider still when all movement felt within abruptly ceases.

"I love it when he does that." Regina smiles serenely without bothering to open her eyes.

"Does what? Acts like a father?"

Her smile widens ever so slightly as she nods. "She kicks me every time he touches me, and she's getting stronger. If I tell her to stop, she doesn't listen, but one word from him and she's suddenly motionless… At least for a short time. If he gets quiet she starts moving again. I think she does it just to hear his voice."

The doctor shrugs amiably. "I don't think she understands the words yet, but I've had a great many expectant mothers tell me that their unborn children respond to a veritable litany of sounds."

Regina opens her eyes and touches Robin's face with affection. "She definitely responds to him, and occasionally, to her brothers; especially if they're being noisy."

"That commonly indicates a healthy baby."

Robin takes the hand against his cheek and holds it softly in his. "I have a feeling she's going to be a handful. Roland kicked his mother fairly often, but not like this one does. Then again, Marian was unwell for a significant portion of her pregnancy. He was born the tiniest baby boy I'd ever seen. He wasn't very strong at first. He's healthy now and has enough energy for five little boys, but he is still small for his age."

The doctor listens attentively and nods as he palpates Regina's neck and throat gently checking for any swelling in the glands. "I take it Roland is one of her brothers?"

Aware that she should be quiet momentarily, Regina hums softly in the affirmative and when he's through with his inspection, she adds, "Her eldest brother, Henry, is adopted. Roland came with Robin. It was the finest package deal in history. This is Robin's second marriage."

Long familiar with his patient, Braithwaite murmurs his own reply as he checks her pulse courtesy of her carotid artery. "And yours as well."

Robin chuckles softly as he watches his wife's eyes suddenly widen in astonishment before she admits quietly, "I keep forgetting about him!"

Braithwaite raises a quizzical eyebrow. "Surely, you jest!"

Regina shakes her head adamantly even before she pauses to think about it and then offers a slight correction. "I suppose it's not that I forget about him. It's just that I don't think about him anymore. Come to think of it, I rarely ever did. Even when I was married to him. The king was just sort of… there."

"So, you're saying that he simply didn't leave a lasting impression… Not that I should be worried my patient is suffering from some sort of profound memory loss?"

Regina chuckles drolly. "There's nothing wrong with my memory, doctor. There's just a profound shortage of things to be remembered. He didn't want a wife."

"Didn't he?"

Regina shakes her head. "Leopold wanted a nanny for his daughter, and a young nubile piece of flesh to drape over his arm at royal gatherings who would make him the envy of every man in the room."

"Not by your lips, Your Majesty, but I have heard that very thing said before."

"I'm sure you have. I was the worst stepmother ever to exist…"

"But, if you will permit me to say so… You did serve him well in that other capacity."

Regina shrugs and smiles with dark self-satisfaction. "At least until I started scaring them."

Braithwaite chuckles even as he shakes his head. "Even after you began terrorizing people. Because of you, every man at the Harvest Ball wanted to be king and every woman present hated you for it." His jaw drops instantly as his mind temporarily grinds to a halt. "Eh… I beg your pardon, Majesty! I spoke out of turn. Forgive me, please."

Regina waves his troubled expression away as she reaches out and hands her bowl to Beatrice. "Watch over that for me. Don't let him eat it!" She teases Robin before telling her physician, "The truth should never require a pardon, doctor."

He nods with relief. "Well then, let's see how she's doing, shall we?" He glances briefly in Robin's direction. "Would you rather wait in the hall?"

Turning his back on the end of the table, Robin smiles at Regina as he shakes his head and perches one hip gently against the table's edge.

"You may as well get started, Doctor," Regina tells him.

"Good! I approve wholeheartedly of men who have the necessary fortitude to be hands-on fathers."

"He's not going anywhere. He was a very hands-on husband and father even before our teenage daughter showed up to deliver her dark news."

"One would naturally assume so," Braithwaite comments dryly.

Beatrice chuckles softly, stepping up, ready to assist in a nurse's capacity as both Robin and Regina raise eyebrows. "I believe that the good doctor was discreetly commenting on the fact that it's his being a rather hands-on husband that led to his being a father in the first place."

* * *

After dinner, after coffee and dessert, Regina walks the palace and its grounds slowly, wandering wherever her feet take her. Not really wanting to be alone, she stays in close proximity to all her house guests. Not really wanting direct contact with most of them, she simultaneously holds herself apart from them, preferring to watch from a distance, her unquiet mind too preoccupied for idle chit-chat with friends and neighbors.

Out on the terrace beyond the dining room, Robin, his merry men, and Hook enjoy a few after dinner spirits along with the noisy camaraderie that is typical of males. She wanders aimlessly until she finds Dorothy sitting on the grass in the west garden, her long legs stretched out in front of her with the head of a stunningly beautiful wolf resting calmly in her lap as the two of them stare quietly up at the moon. Zelena, Eliana, and the god, are ensconced in the largest, most opulent, parlor in the west wing, laughing and talking enthusiastically; the two females obviously enjoying a good laugh at the expense of the only male in the room. Snow and David sit quietly side by side under the shade of the big willow tree by the pond with their eyes shining and their words whispered; engrossed in conversation that is plainly meant for their ears only. Still seated around the dining room table, Emma and the dwarves are enjoying a lively game of poker, and Regina chuckles softly as Leroy scowls and folds his hand in response to her latest bet. She hopes he doesn't lose more than his shirt before the night is over. Belle sits in the solarium, reading and talking with the nuns. Regina steps into her father's darkened library and courtesy of large windows that let in the northern light during the day, she sees that Robin has left his friends and now sits in the garden enjoying a quiet conversation alone with his mother. With her back to a bookshelf, Regina watches the two of them silently for long moments before finally turning to pick up the throw blanket that is draped over the back of the nearest sofa. Approaching his favorite wingback chair, she perches on the edge of the ottoman long enough to remove her sleeping father's boots before spreading the blanket over his lap, pausing to mark his place and then move the book that had been resting against his chest to the nearest end table before pulling the blanket the rest of the way up to tuck it behind one of his shoulders. She kisses his forehead gently and as she steps away he stirs just long enough to reach out and softly squeeze her hand. He mumbles thickly, "It will all work itself out, sweetheart."

She tries desperately to ignore the sting of tears his unexpected words bring to accompany the tender warmth that spreads out from her chest upon hearing them. She turns to offer him a grateful smile. She should've known he would be the first to pick up on her unspoken turmoil, but even before she can acknowledge this, he snores quietly. She pulls the door to the library closed behind her so that no one else in the palace will disturb his slumber.

Up the grand staircase, she continues her solitary journey through the palace corridors glancing out windows as she goes. There are torches burning in the courtyard and in the firelight, she can see a few of her Black Knights standing post. As she moves, she catches sight of one knight in particular. Even in full armor, even with his face shielded from view, she recognizes the stance and posture with absolute certainty. Drummond. Just for a moment, he lifts his chin in her direction and although he makes no attempt to acknowledge that he sees her, she is absolutely certain that he does. There's no way his shrewd eyes would miss her standing in the window backlit by candlelight. She walks on, and a short time later, she comes to another window; one that overlooks the stables, and she's only mildly surprised when her eyes find her daughter in the darkness far below.

Norah sits Indian style on top of a stack of hay bales, her back to the stable wall. She stares up at the stars, wrapped loosely in the arms of J.J. Little. She wears his battered leather jacket, her petite figure swallowed beneath its folds. Were she standing, Regina has no doubt it would fall to a point below her knees. They are talking, lost in the words, lost and found in each other, their faces glowing with the untamed tender light of love's first discovery. Even before he kisses her, Regina thinks of another stable, another boy, and for one exquisite moment in time, she can feel Daniel. He is standing right there. Just behind her left shoulder, a breath away, close enough for her to feel his breath in her hair, and she knows that as long as she is perfectly still, as long as she does not move, does not turn her head to look, he will stay there. So, she stands there barely daring to breathe, lost in bittersweet memories, spying on her daughter while other images dance through her mind wreaking havoc on her senses and her body. Then, a tiny elbow pummels her from within, and the old magic steps aside to make room for the newest magic in her life.

Grateful for the visit, no matter how brief, she smiles and lets Daniel slip silently away, knowing that he will be back again. Placing both hands protectively around her middle, she whispers, "Okay, okay, I hear you. Let's go find your daddy."

She glides into her room on silent feet, she sheds the cloak wrapped around her for warmth and tosses it carelessly over the end of the bench in front of her vanity. She pulls back the bed linens and stretches out propping herself against plump pillows as Robin steps out of the private bath patting his face, shoulders, and armpits dry with a towel.

"I think I've gotten spoiled." He announces; certain she is there without even glancing her way. "Tomorrow night, before bed, I vote we go back to Storybrooke and back to hot running water."

She chuckles softly and smirks. "What's the matter? Bathing in the river not as much fun as it used to be?"

He settles in beside her, on top of the blankets and flashes his best smile. "It will be if you come with me."

Regina wrinkles her nose in response.

Robin's chuckle is almost silent. "What difference does it make if the housekeeping staff brings it into the house by the bucket full, or if you just go outside and jump in the lake?"

"The difference, thief, is that by the time they bring it to me, here in this room, they've put some warmth into it. I do not like cold baths."

"I promise, you wouldn't be cold for long…" He leans in for a kiss but backs away slightly when he notices the telltale swollen hint of discoloration around her eyes; the kind that usually indicates recent tears. In the blink of an eye, he goes from mild foreplay to genuine concern. "What's wrong?" He asks, barely above a whisper.

She tries for a convincing smile, but it falls flat. "Nothing really. There are ghosts here tonight."

"No such thing as ghosts." He breathes gently. "How can there be? In order for them to be ghosts, they would have to leave us first, and they never do. They stay with us, always just out of sight, always just a breath away, just behind the veil. So, no such thing as ghosts." Trying to lighten the mood, he smiles and offers playfully, "No such thing as vampires either." Then he squints. "Or is there?"

"Don't ask me. I've never met one."

"Hmm, too bad!"

She scowls at him, studying him as if she's seeing him from an entirely different angle for the first time. "Too bad, huh? Have you got some sort of secret fetish for vampire queens?"

He shrugs easily. "Don't think so. But, if I did have, you'd make an excellent one."

She scoffs as quiet laughter tumbles out of her. "Oh, would I?"

He nods adamantly as he shrugs for the second time. "You do like to bite."

For one fleeting instant, she looks at him the way a she-cat looks at its prey. Then, just to hear him groan in protest, she smiles viciously and whispers, "Not to steal your thunder, Forest Boy but, our daughter is outside this very minute making out with your best friend's son."

Robin not only groans but mutters under his breath, "Evil woman!"

The queen laughs with dark abandon.

"Did you throw a bucket of cold water on them?"

Regina squints. "Of course not. Please tell me that's not how you intend to approach the subject of our daughter's sex life."

"Actually, I'm hoping to avoid it altogether for as long as humanly possible."

"Well, that's not going to work. We've seen the two of them together for the last two days. I know we haven't talked about it until now, but we both know that she and J.J. are spending time alone together."

"You really think she's having sex?"

Regina simply nods. "I was making the rounds. I saw them through a window. They're down at the stables. It wasn't their first kiss. There was nothing awkward, hesitant, or innocent about it. If by some miracle, I'm wrong, and they haven't had sex yet, it's only a matter of time."

"Well, they're not likely to get into too much trouble down at the stables."

A short burst of harsh laughter escapes Regina. "What makes you think that?"

"It's a relatively public place and half the Merry Men are milling around down there; including his father."

"And you think that's going to be enough to stop them from having sex in the hay out there?"

"Well, I'm trying to hold onto that particular thought, yes! But my wife keeps trying to burst my bubble! Will you stop that please?"

"Sorry Daddy, I'm just trying to be realistic. She is almost 17. He's a couple of years older."

Robin sighs with reluctance. "You should talk to her."

"Me? Why does it have to be me? She just met me two days ago. She's hardly comfortable with me, something like that might carry more weight coming from you. At least she's familiar with you."

"She's a girl."

"Just now noticing that, are you?"

"No, of course, not. I just think that for a girl, a conversation like that might be easier had with Mum than Dad."

"Don't count on it." Regina declares drolly.

Robin can't help but chuckle at the aggrieved frown on his wife's face. "What's the matter? Having that conversation with Cora wasn't any fun?"

Suddenly she looks as if she's on the verge of spitting out something that leaves a foul taste in her mouth. She shivers noticeably and whispers, "Yuck! Daddy was highly uncomfortable, but at least he tried to be helpful. Mother was just gross!"

"She was gross?" Robin scowls in confusion.

"I've told you before, she had a rather utilitarian view of sex. As for as she was concerned, It was a tool, to be used only when needed and then put away and locked in the back of the closet with all the cobwebs and spiders until the next time she needed it."

"Well, when you put it that way…" Robin shakes his head. "Yuck!"

Smirking, Regina nods. "See, I told you. Having that particular conversation with her was cold and lifeless. As far as I was concerned, it ranked right up there with the possibility of necrophilia."

"Well, you're bound to be better at it than her. If you talk to Norah, I will talk to Roland, when the time comes, and Henry too, if Hook hasn't already beat me to it."

"Oh god! Are you trying to give me nightmares?"

Robin chuckles. "Only as many as you are trying to give me, love."

"Please tell me Henry's not having sex."

"Not yet. But it's unrealistic to think he's not curious."

"When does the curiosity first start?"

Robin raises an eyebrow. "For boys? Somewhere between 10 and 13."

"That early? I've always been told that girls matured faster than boys in that regard."

"You only asked me when the curiosity started. I wouldn't say I was particularly mature about it. Not at that age. Girls?"

Regina shrugs. "I was maybe 13 or 14 before I gave it any serious consideration. Took me another six years to do anything about it."

Her husband gives her a doubtful look.

"What?"

He drapes an arm over her shoulders keeping her close as he eyes her with disbelief. "Regina, I sleep with you."

She elbows him sharply in the ribs. "Meaning what?"

"Meaning, I've had sex with you. I've had a lot of sex with you. You don't really expect me to believe that you held all that rampant curiosity at bay for five or six years?"

"I did! She scowls insistently. "Granted, it might have had something to do with the fact that my mother kept trying to pair me off with royal pretty boys who all had egos of the size of Mongolia. Every single one of them was convinced he was entitled. They were revolting! All of them! Except for Daniel. He wasn't revolting. I was only just starting to get really comfortable with it all… And then he was gone." She falls silent for a heavy beat. "After that, I just sort of went off the rails. Damn, be the consequences."

"You and Drummond?"

Regina's eyes widen slightly. "Me and whoever. Nothing happened between Drummond and me, until after Leopold was dead. But how did you know? He didn't say something to you?"

Robin shakes his head. "I don't think he would, but even so, he didn't have to. He's your knight first and foremost, but he's also comfortable with you; comfortable, and very candid. There's a familiarity between the two of you, albeit a carefully veiled one."

Regina turns her left hand palm up and Robin places his right in it instinctively.

She sighs. "It may be veiled, but only for the sake of discretion. We are not actively trying to hide anything. Not from you. It's just… It was a long time ago, and it's still nobody's business."

Robin nods thoughtfully; quietly.

Sensing the questions in his mind, Regina asks, "What, if anything, do you want to know?"

Robin shrugs. "I'm not sure. Usually people talk about you, and I do choose not to listen too closely to what other people think they know. But…"

Regina breathes deeply and silently counts to ten before quietly offering, "He managed to earn a thimbleful of respect from me at a time when no one got anything from me. Daniel died. I went dark. Very shortly thereafter I pursued men in general; trying to fill that dark chasm. 'No thank you' was not a statement I readily accepted. I did proposition him before Leopold died, but he said no. I threatened his life horribly. He shrugged and said, 'You already have my service, if it's my life you now want, take it. The circumstances under which you married are immaterial to me. I will not bed another man's wife.' He walked away and because he had the temerity to do it, I let him. After Leopold died, the appeal was still there, but that's all it was. He's an attractive man, but I'm not the woman he was looking for. I wasn't then, and I'm still not."

Regina pauses long enough to study Robin's face carefully for signs of doubt or discomfort. "Captain Murdoch fell in battle. I want to promote Drummond to Captain of the Guard, but only if you understand that it is because he deserves the promotion. He has earned it, Robin. There is no other reason and there never will be. I understand if you'd rather he was not here. All I ask is that you give me time to find him a new post with one of the neighboring kingdoms. He's done nothing to deserve his walking papers. I will not cast him out with nothing to fall back on."

Robin is quiet for a long beat before he finally shakes his head. "I can't ask you to do that, Regina."

"Yes - you can."

"It wouldn't be fair. It wouldn't be right."

"No, it wouldn't. But, you have to know – you come first."

"And you, for me. That's why he has to stay. He's the one. No one else is going to do half the job he will to keep you safe, Regina - you and Norah."

"Okay, if you’re sure… We should get some sleep. Elyria is going to be a long day's ride tomorrow. Oh, if it's okay with them, I want to send a large group of the Merry Men to Covarrachia with Daddy. Only the gods know what he'll find when he gets there."

Robin nods as he reaches out and extinguishes the flame in the oil lamp on his bedside table. "Norah needs to go home. Eh, that is, back to where she belongs… He pauses uncomfortably… With the older version of myself, I guess. Only trouble is, I don't think she's going to go easily or quietly. I'm concerned we may have to forcibly escort her home."

Regina sighs in resignation. "I know."

"Can we do that? More to the point, can I do that? Can two of me exist in the same time?"

Regina snuggles close in the dark as she scoffs in uncertainty. "Technically, two of Norah exist in this time."

"Yeah, but one of her is literally in utero. I won't be."

"I'm not sure. You might end up merged with your older self."

"Wouldn't be a problem for… him. He already knows everything I know. It could seriously be a very big problem for me. He's widowed. I'd just as soon not feel that pain again if I don't have to Regina."

"I know that. I just don't know what to tell you, not with any real certainty. Portal jumping is one thing. But time travel is serious business. That might be how it works. That might not be how it works. Assuming we go, we might get there and there might still be two of you."

"Hmm…" Robin chuckles softly and squeezes her shoulders. "And what are you going to do if there are two of me to contend with?"

"That's easy." She yawns before she whispers and nips provocatively at his ear. "Get naked!"

Boisterous laughter explodes from somewhere deep inside Robin's chest. "But of course! Your mind would go there!"

"Why shouldn't it? It'd be my one chance to safely indulge in two men simultaneously without the messy moral dilemma. Besides, the only thing that could possibly be better than one of you, is two of you."

He threats his fingers through her dark hair. "With you naked and sandwiched in the middle?"

The queen purrs scandalously.

Still laughing, her thief lectures in the darkness, "That better not be why our daughter doesn't get herself completely turned around before trying to vacate the premises!"


	12. Chapter 12

* * *

**Enchanted Forest**

**Present Day**

**The Black Palace**

"No!"

Norah cringes at the volume and tone of her own voice even as her face reddens with anger. She hadn't meant to speak so sharply, but now it's done. She folds her arms over her chest and glares at her parents.

"Excuse me?" Regina glowers with indignation; supremely annoyed with, but not particularly surprised by their daughter's forceful objection. "I strongly suggest you take a moment to remember who you are talking to, young lady!"

Norah widens her stance slightly and settles on her heels. "I came here for a reason. I'm going to see it through! I am not going home! Not until it's done."

Robin tries a softer, less authoritarian approach than his wife. "We're only trying to keep you safe. That's our job."

"Keep me safe? By doing what? Sending me back home to the future? You do understand that Nottingham's witch hunting parties are about 50 times stronger in my time… At least they were. Now that he's locked up here in the palace dungeon… Well, I don't know. It all depends on how this thing plays out. Things could be better, but things might just as easily be worse. I'm staying with the two of you for as long as I can!"

As the first glimmers of golden pink dawn appear in the eastern sky Eliana nudges her father's bicep with her shoulder and tilts her head in the direction of the arguing threesome in the palace courtyard.

Hades shrugs uncomfortably and raises an eyebrow, silently asking, "What am I to do?"

Frustrated, and growling softly at his lack of comprehension, Eliana speaks up from her place between her own parents. "She's right. Things are pretty awful where we come from. It's not why we came here, but if we can do something about it while we are here, we should. To her mother, Eliana says, “Daddy promised Uncle Robin that he would bring Norah home safely. They even shook hands."

Overhearing this, Norah scowls in confusion and disbelief.

Eliana nods encouragement. "It's true, Norah. I saw them do it. Your dad - Eh, the other one. He knows you're here. He got worried when he couldn't find you. He came to see me. He and dad - they had an argument, which is no big surprise, I'm sure, but Uncle Robin isn't limping anymore."

Norah squints with a moment's uncertainty and then a brilliant smile lights up her face.

Eliana nods again, aware by the light in her eyes, that her cousin is catching on.

"You stopped him from being shot, and that's the way he remembers it now. He remembers meeting you before you were born. He remembers you being shot in his place. He doesn't remember walking around for 16-plus years with a cane. I'm guessing that his memory is probably a little patchy right now since this time traveling spell hasn't played out yet, but he knows you are here with your parents. I told him that much. He wanted to come with us, but I wasn't sure what might happen to him if he came back to his own past. So, he stayed home but only after dad promised to bring you back."

She turns her attention to her aunt and uncle. "He knows Norah is with you. He knows you won't stand by and let anything happen to her. She can stay. She should stay. That way, even if we can't change… what we wanted to change… then, at least she gets to spend some time with Aunt Regina. I had not counted on meeting Mum. That's just an added pleasure." The young redhead offers her mother a brilliant smile before continuing. "Anyhow, with Nottingham behind bars now, the worst of it should be over. At least if he stays behind bars. When he and his Neanderthal goon squad tried to march in here, you guys kicked ass."

Hades clears his throat and Zelena objects loudly, "Eliana!"

"What? Excuse me, but I'm rather attached to my own neck. Some of those animals tried to hang me by it! So, just consider it my personal thank-you!" She pauses to run two protective hands over her own throat. "Until we know for certain how things are going to play out, don't you think we're safer with you than away from you?"

Robin and Regina turn to face each other. "Eliana has a point." Robin begins slowly. "Can we at least wait until a decision has been made about what to do with Nottingham? I'm not comfortable with the idea of sending either of them home to face the possibility of execution for simply being who they are. No matter what we encounter; here Norah has both of us to look after her and a couple of grandparents, too. I'm only guessing, but if we don't change things, something tells me that nearly 17 years from now I'll be the only one left out of the four of us."

Norah looks to her mother, nodding her own hopeful encouragement.

Regina sighs and grudgingly nods her head. Try as she might, she can't fault Robin's logic.

Norah smiles with enthusiasm and then thinks better of it; doing her best to mask her excitement.

Hades shrugs. "Well, this is where I say goodbye and I'm taking my girls with me - both of them." He places one arm around his daughter's shoulders and the other around his wife's waist. Stepping away from the line of carriages, horses, and people preparing for departure in the cobblestoned palace courtyard, his signature dark portal opens up like an oily viscous stain spreading across the ground a few feet ahead.

Several of the horses lift their heads; their eyes widening in protest when they sense the manifestation of dark power. Their ears stiffen, pricking upward while their hooves prance nervously.

In response, Robin takes hold of the bridle belonging to the nearest stallion and gently pats the animal's neck. "Easy, Mate."

Content to be between his wife and daughter, Hades strides into the portal with complete confidence; never once questioning that he will arrive precisely where he intends to be with both wife and daughter along for the journey.

At what she assumes is the last possible second, Eliana glances over her shoulder, makes eye contact with Norah, and shrugs apologetically. However, rather than being swept away by its pull, magical energy crackles through the air just above the portal like an invisible pool of unharnessed electricity. Hades vanishes from view but when the portal blinks shut, denying them entry, mother and daughter stare at each other in bewilderment. Turning back to the others, they say in unison, "I can't get through. It wouldn't let me in."

Alarmed and frustrated, Zelena tries frantically to talk her way through her own confusion. "I don't understand. Neither of us can enter his portal unless he opens it, but Eliana, you should be able to travel on your own once it's opened. I have to hold his hand, but it shouldn't be a problem for you. It doesn't make any sense that you can't get through."

Regina approaches and stares with determination at the cobblestones at her feet. She turns a slow circle standing in the very spot where the portal no longer exists. "You were both touching him. You should've been pulled in as well. So, the question becomes who, or what has the power to intercept or interfere with Hades' preferred mode of transportation?"

Eliana shakes her head. "There isn't anyone that I know of." She pauses momentarily. "Except Uncle Zeus. And, come to think of it, that makes sense. He said he wouldn't let Daddy interfere with what was supposed to be. I bet that if I had been the only one along for the ride, he would've let me pass through. He stopped Daddy from bringing you through, Mum."

Zelena's scowls hideously and hurls a massive green fireball into the grand multi-tiered fountain in the center of the courtyard; causing the water spilling from its pinnacle to boil instantaneously and effectively turning the enclosed courtyard into a sauna. "Why would he interfere now? Why not two days ago?"

Regina silently turns the question over in her mind for several long seconds as if trying to view it from every conceivable angle. At length, she offers, "Two days ago when Hades first arrived here, he did so for the express purposes of escorting and protecting his daughter. An act I'm guessing Zeus found no fault with. He understands the importance of family. Additionally, I've heard Eliana say more than once that Hades was forbidden to interfere with what is supposed to be. Maybe the girls are supposed to be here. Or perhaps, he was merely interfering with his brother's decision to take you into a future where you do not currently exist, Zelena."

When Zelena raises a hand, intent on hurling another gloriously wicked fireball, her daughter steps back, startled when Regina commandeers the green monstrosity and extinguishes it by appearing to crush it in the palm of her hand.

"What the bloody hell did you do that for!" Zelena demands with rampant hostility.

"I know you're angry, Greenie. I get it - I do, but if you keep that up, the horses are going to run for the hills. I am not walking to Elyria."

"So, just magic yourself there!" Zelena snaps.

Regina shakes her head with obvious regret. "Believe me, I'd love to, but that battle two days ago has me feeling a bit magically frazzled. And anyhow, these days…" She pauses to rest both hands deliberately against her middle. "My magic is only 100% reliable when it's do-or-die time. You know what that's like. Furthermore, even if I weren't pregnant, even if I weren't feeling a bit frazzled, I could take myself and a small group of others. There's no way I could transport all these people with me; not even with the help of you, Emma, and all the fairies. Like it or not, Sister, we travel by coach… and that means, don't spook the horses."

"Go talk to him!" The wicked witch demands.

"Go talk to who?"

"Zeus."

Regina places her hands against the small of her aching lower back and shakes her head adamantly. "I'm not getting between two feuding brothers in my condition; especially not when they both happen to be gods. I am done running interference with Zeus where you and Hades are concerned. He's your brother-in-law. Talk to him yourself."

"And just how am I supposed to do that? Tell me, sister dear, how am I supposed to get from here to… wherever he is?"

Regina walks back toward the lead carriage as she shrugs and tosses over her shoulder, "Try requesting an audience."

Zelena's scowls and waits a protracted moment as if her sister must be joking. When she realizes that Regina intends to hold true to her word; that she really isn't going to offer further assistance, she lifts her face toward the morning sky and declares loudly. "Zeus!"

When nothing happens, she yells louder. "Zeus! I want my husband back! I want him back this minute!"

Still, nothing happens, and she shrugs and sighs with exaggerated hostility. "See, he won't answer me."

Regina smirks. "On the contrary. It appears his answer was no."

"Now what am I supposed to do?"

Regina shrugs. "No matter what you do, it would seem we are going to have to see this thing through. That means; you can choose to join Robin and me on our journey to Elyria. You can ride to Covarrachia with Daddy. You can choose to go anywhere you like and spend some time with your daughter… Or you can continue to stand there and shout at the wind."

Zelena growls in bitter frustration, takes her daughter's hand in hers roughly, and stomps toward the second carriage in the processional.

Acting as their footman, Robin opens carriage doors and offers his wife a sturdy hand to hold as she gathers her skirts and steps into theirs ahead of Norah. When Zelena and Eliana have settled into their own carriage, he pokes his head inside the first once more and informs his queen, "I'll join you shortly. I want to check in with some of the others before we get too far under way."

Regina nods; her serious tone belying her casual statement. "That's fine. Norah and I will use the time for some girl-talk."

Having caught the discreet undertone in her mother's words, Norah sits across from her in the carriage and waits. Although she's not exactly sure what she's waiting for, the image of her mother and the words 'girl-talk' don't seem to go hand in hand, and she doubts they ever will; no matter how hard she tries to imagine it.

When Regina doesn't speak immediately, Norah tries hard to sit still and ignore the invisible pins and needles pricking at the palms of her hands and the soles of her feet.

The wheels beneath the carriage start to roll and in no time at all they leave the Black Palace and its grand courtyard behind. With the journey officially under way, Regina tries to find the least uncomfortable position to sit in. Picking up Robin's freshly filled canteen from the seat beside herself, she helps herself to a sip of cool water, replaces the cap, and then closes her eyes and breathes deeply, willing the mild but nagging contraction that is wreaking havoc on her lower back to subside.

"Are you okay?" Norah's voice reaches out to her, quiet and soft with concern.

Opening her eyes, Regina offers a tepid smile. "I'm fine."

Norah raises an eyebrow in uncertainty.

"It's nothing to worry about. I'm just uncomfortable."

"Sorry about that."

Regina inhales deeply and chooses to moderate her tone before speaking. "I want you to stop doing that, Norah."

"Stop doing what?"

"Apologizing for things that are not your fault. You chose to come back in time despite great risk to your own personal safety, and no matter what I've said, you have adamantly refused to apologize for putting yourself in danger, yet you frequently apologize for things you have no control over."

Norah shrugs as she wrinkles her nose. "It is sort of my fault you're uncomfortable."

Regina's voice remains quiet despite the force of her words. "It most certainly is not. I… your father and I made this choice. We chose to bring you into existence."

Regina studies the look of wonder on her daughter's face as she splays a gentle hand across her own swollen belly. "Yes, you were a conscious choice. You are not just something that happened to us. We want you, Norah, and we are the only ones to blame for my current discomfort. I want… No, I need for you to understand… Even if things don't work out the way you want… Even if you're being here changes nothing. I have no regrets. I am your mother, and I wouldn't trade that for anything the universe has to offer. Got it?"

Norah nods slowly. "Got it."

"Good. Stop apologizing for things you're not responsible for. You'll have enough things you will need to apologize for in life."

Norah nods again.

"And try not to worry so much. All your worrying won't change a thing. The bad things are still going to happen. So are the good things. Worrying just makes you sick and old before your time."

"But, Mom, you look just this side of miserable."

"Yeah well, contractions are no fun; no matter how mild they are."

Norah's eyes widen in immediate alarm. "You're having a contraction!" Intent on opening the carriage door and telling the driver they need to return to the palace at once, she half rises to her feet.

Regina pats the air. "Sit down. What did I just tell you?"

"Stop worrying. I heard you. But if you're in labor…"

"I'm not in labor. It's just a Braxton-Hicks contraction. I've been having them on and off for a few weeks. The doctor has assured both me and your father that it's all perfectly normal. So has Snow. She's done this a couple of times."

Norah shakes her head in confusion. "Braxton what? I don't know what that is. I've never heard of that."

"They are false labor pains. They are milder, not as intense as the real thing. It's just the body's way of preparing mom for baby's debut… Sort of a dry run."

“It's not bad enough you have to go through it once I am on the way? Your body tries to trick you into thinking I'm coming when I'm not?"

Regina nods. "The first one was almost three weeks ago. I have your brothers, but this is the first time I've actually been pregnant. My Lamaze class, all the books I've read, they all mention Braxton-Hicks, but nothing prepares you for the first one. All I could think was, "No, it's too soon! Your dad handled it much better than I did."

"Daddy's rock solid; he's totally unflappable when you need him to be."

Regina chuckles quietly. "Apparently, you've never witnessed anything that threatened the welfare of one of his children. It's the only time I've ever seen him lose that unflappable quality you speak so fondly of."

"I take it he got a little nervous."

Regina offers a slight smile. "A bit. He still handled it better than I did. He didn't threaten to set anyone on fire if they didn't make it stop. So, like I said, false labor does serve a purpose."

"All this traveling around probably doesn't help, Mom."

"No, it doesn't. But we are aware of that. I rest every chance I get. Nothing is more important than you, but there are some things that are just as important."

"I get that, too. You can't just let Nottingham and his toads have their way. People are suffering. Somebody has to stand up to them. Somebody has to stand up for the people they want to hurt."

Regina studies her with approval evident in her dark eyes. "Your dad's done a good job with you."

"He's done a good job with all of us. He's the best dad ever. That doesn't mean we don't need you. We miss you like mad. All of us. And I…"

"You what?" Regina silently watches her child struggle with the weight of some unsaid thing. "Whatever it is that you're carrying around inside, it's not going to get lighter by bottling it up. Trust me I've had decades of experience in this department. "Say it."

It's just that…" Norah hesitates for several seconds longer before finally admitting in a rush. "I have no idea how to be a girl."

Regina can't help but laugh.

"Mom, I'm serious! With Dad, and two older brothers… They are great! It's disgusting how much I love them but… Well, they're not much help when you need someone to talk to about girl things!"

"And Eliana?"

"She's too girly… and what's worse, it just seems to come so naturally to her! Aunt Zelena wasn't around much longer than you, but somehow she's got it all figured out and every time I ask her for advice, she goes overboard. She wants to dress me up like one of those ridiculous females who's afraid to have a single hair out of place or break a nail. Mom, I couldn't care less about the latest fashion trend."

"And you think that makes you somehow less of a girl? I assure you, it doesn't. Furthermore, you should never allow another person to define who you can and cannot be. That decision is yours and yours alone, Norah. However, if it will help put your mind at ease, I've seen the way J.J. Little looks at you, and judging by what I've seen, he is very well aware that you are, in fact, female."

Regina watches an awkward smile lift the corners of her daughter's mouth.

"I'm still getting used to that." She whispers conspiratorially. "I mean, I like it. But it's still a little weird."

"What's weird about it?"

"We grew up together. I guess he was never quite a brother… That would just be gross… But he was definitely a best friend. He was family. He is family. Dad treats his dad like a brother. It's almost like we were cousins. Then, one day last spring I caught him looking at me like he'd never seen me before. Like he'd suddenly realized…"

"That you're a girl?"

"Yeah… I mean yes. See, it's weird, right?"

"There's nothing weird or mysterious about it, Norah. It happens to all of us eventually."

"What does?"

"We start seeing other boys and girls as more than just childhood playmates. We grow up. How long have you been sleeping with him?"

With her eyes going wide, Norah leans back in her seat, putting as much distance between herself and her mother as possible within the tight confines of the carriage. "Eh, okay. Don't ease into it, or anything. Just come right out and ask Mom."

Regina raises an eyebrow. "You wanted to get to know me. It's not in my nature to ease into anything. I'm a fan of the all-or-nothing approach. And since my time may be running short, I see no need to change that now. So…"

Norah tries not to fidget under her mother's intense gaze as she admits quietly, "Not long. It's still new."

"What's new? J.J? Or sex in general?"

"Both." She shrugs and wrinkles her nose again. "I feel like I'm stumbling around in the dark without a match. But, he doesn't seem to have any complaints."

Regina chuckles quietly. "And he won't have any. Unless you do something to inflict serious pain. With the rare exception, men are fairly easy to please. And it's okay to be nervous or to feel like you're out of your depth, Norah. That's how you grow. That's how you learn, and I mean with any new experience, not just sex. As long as you always feel safe; that's the important part."

Norah nods. "J.J. will never hurt me or do anything to scare me. I trust him, and he's too much a softie. I'm more aggressive than he ever thinks about being."

"What happens when you say no?"

Norah squints. "I'm not sure I understand the question. If I say no, nothing happens. He stops. I would wail on his head if he didn't… and he knows it."

Regina nods. "Good, that's the answer I was looking for. Are you careful when you're with him?”

Norah nods quietly, hesitating before she adds, "Always. He's kind of compulsive about it. He's got eight sisters. He joked once that he doesn't even want his mom and dad using the same bath soap because he isn't sure that Sherwood Forest is big enough for any more Littles."

"That's not how it happens," Regina comments drolly with a wry smile.

Norah laughs. "No, I know that Mom."

"And don't leave it all up to him. I'm glad you trust him, but please, pick a birth control you can have sole control over. It's your body, Norah. If he slips up and forgets just one time, it's not going to be him who winds up with morning sickness, labor pains, and a baby to nurse. I don't want that for you, Norah. At least, not before you're ready. Not before you choose it for yourself."

Norah nods and waits for something more. When Regina remains silent, she raises an eyebrow. "That's it?"

"Were you expecting something else? Do you have questions? Ask me anything."

Norah squints; not quite trusting her own eyes and ears. "You're not angry with me? You’re not gonna tell me to stop; to cease and desist immediately?"

"Angry? No. I'm concerned. But you're not doing anything aberrant. It's fairly normal for people your age to begin experimenting sexually."

"Experimenting sexually? Eww! When you put it like that it sounds gross Mom!"

Regina laughs and rubs her belly. "Cut me some slack. Up until two days ago, my biggest concerns were whether or not your cradle is safe and whether or not we have enough diapers ready and waiting for you. I wasn't prepared to have this conversation for at least another 16 years. I've barely begun to have these conversations with your oldest brother. But since you're here…" Regina shrugs. "I'm well aware that telling you to stop would almost certainly be pointless. So, I'm only going to say that you should stop if you feel like you should. Otherwise, be comfortable, be safe, and always, no matter who you're with – be it J.J. or anyone else – trust your own instincts."

Norah nods. "Okay, I can do that."

"If you get home… And I'm not there… Talk to your dad, okay?"

When her daughter squints uncomfortably, Regina presses. "It's important."

"Does Dad know?"

"We've had a conversation about it."

"Oh god!"

"it's not that bad Norah."

"Does that mean Daddy didn't totally freak?"

Regina chooses her words. "No, he didn't totally freak. He's uncomfortable and worried, but he loves you and he's a good dad."

"I don't know, Mom. I talk to Daddy about pretty much everything. But I don't know if I can talk to him about this."

"At least try. He needs to know what's going on in your life; even the parts he's not entirely comfortable with. If you shut him out just because it makes you both uncomfortable to talk about these things, you will hurt him deeply, Norah. Give him a chance. I bet he'll surprise you. If you try and you just can't do it – is Snow still around in the future?"

"Yeah, she is. She misses you too."

"If you need another woman to talk to, she might get on your nerves occasionally with all her sunshine and bluebirds, but she makes a good sounding board. She gives good advice."

"I know that already."

"You've had a few chats with her, then?"

Norah nods and softly adds, "Snow's nice, but I'd rather talk to you."

Regina's slight smile is bittersweet. "I'd rather you talk to me too, Norah, but failing that possibility, it's my job to make sure you know that you have other options. Emma would also make a suitable confidant."

Norah suddenly scowls. "No thanks."

Regina raises a concerned eyebrow. "Uh oh, what's the matter? Ms. Swan isn't a trusted friend?"

"Emma's okay. It's just… She's Henry's mom. He's almost 32 and she still calls him kid."

Regina nods. "That will never change, Norah. When he's 60, she will still call him kid. Mothers are like that."

"I know, and that's fine for Henry, Mom, but she does the same thing to me. She means well, I know, but she tries to mother me, and I hate it. She's not my mom!"

"So, tell her to knock it off! Emma's tougher than she looks. My guess is that you haven't told her it bothers you. Just be straight with her."

"Okay, I will next time it happens. It might be a while. She and Hook have their hands pretty full these days."

"Oh? With what?"

Norah's dark eyes sparkle merrily. "The wild child."

Regina raises an eyebrow. "The wild child?"

Norah nods. "Henry's other little sister."

Regina's laughter is rich and full-bodied as the carriage slows just long enough to allow Robin to step in and claim the seat beside their daughter. His gaze swivels, passing an eager look between the two of them. As he quietly joins the conversation, Regina continues. "Well, I suppose that was inevitable, the way the pirate and his swan carry on. They can't keep their hands off each other."

They still can't. It's amazing they only have the one kid. And a good thing too. They can barely keep up with her."

"Does the wild child have a name?"

"Of course, she does." Norah wrinkles her nose in unmistakable disapproval. "Hope."

Regina closes her eyes and shakes her head in displeasure before shrugging with lukewarm acceptance. "It means something to them."

"Oh, I know. And that's fine. But personally… I'd like to thank you both for giving me an actual name; one that's not just some abstract emotion that will always be impossible to live up to."

"I seem to recall your father once questioning whether or not Norah Beatrice might be a tad too old-fashioned for a baby girl born in modern-day Storybrooke."

Norah shrugs. "I don't know, maybe, but I wasn't born in modern-day Storybrooke. I like my name. The three of us, we've all got good, solid, sturdy names. Henry, Roland, Norah. I'm afraid the next generation may not be so lucky."

Robin and Regina both squint in confusion. "Why is that?"

"Ro's wife is a sweet girl, but she's one of those who like feathery names. Every time she starts talking about baby names…" Norah leans over and softly nudges her father's forearm with her shoulder. "Grandpa just cringes. She's having twins. She wants to call the baby boy, Archer, and as of two weeks ago, she wanted to call their little girl, Autumn. I'm hoping Roland vetoes both."

A look passes over Robin's face that might best be described as equal parts wonder and delight with just a dash of irritation. "Grandpa?"

Norah nods and giggles. "Maybe I shouldn't have told you that?"

Regina shakes her head. "It's fine, honey. He'll recover a lot faster than me. Right now, Roland is still a very small boy; not quite six. It's just the shock of thinking of him as grown, married; while still quite young, and with his own children on the way. Your dad will make a wonderful grandfather, and once he gets over the initial shock, he will thoroughly enjoy the title. Me; on the other hand,… we'll have to come up with something other than 'Grandmother."

Robin chuckles in response to the unpleasant scowl on his wife's face.

Norah tilts her head to one side and studies her mother's face intently. "Grandmother… That's how Eliana and I refer to Cora whenever she's mentioned. It doesn't suit you. I can't imagine it ever will. It's much too dour a word. And Granny's too soft; too sweet. We'll have to come up with something."

The shadow of something dark and lonely passes over Regina's face. "I don't suppose it will matter if I'm not there to hear it."

Robin forces a warm smile onto his face and reaches for his wife's hand across the narrow aisle between their seats; seeking physical contact with her to drive out the cold hollow ache that pierces his own heart each time her impending departure is mentioned. "None of that! You'll be there. We're going to make sure of it, and once you are there, it won't matter what our grandchildren decide to call you. Whatever title they choose, I know you. You will cherish it."

* * *

The queen's carriage rolls along, bouncing roughly over every stone or out of place divot along the well-traveled road they negotiate. They are still more than two hours outside of Elyria when Regina grimaces and struggles, for what must be the 30th time, to find a more comfortable position as she gouges the knuckles of her right hand into the small of her back, trying to rub out the sharp recurring throb of pain she feels there.

Having noticed the look on her mother's face, Norah reaches for her father's hand, quietly drawing his attention away from the carriage window and the world beyond. With a raised eyebrow, Robin glances at his daughter first, and then, when she nods in her mother's direction, he gives Regina his undivided attention.

Quickly changing seats, he settles in beside her and asks simply, "The usual spot?"

Regina nods and allows him to help her perch as close to the edge of the seat as she dares, so that he has room enough to place his hands against the hollow of her back just above her hips. She sits up as straight as possible, her spine nearly rigid, and hums softly in response to his strong nimble fingers and the relief they offer her.

"That hurt?" he peers over her shoulder; trying to guess her response according to the expression on her face even before she murmurs, "Umm hmm, hurts just right. Don't stop."

Robin places a light kiss against her collarbone courtesy of the bateau style collar of her dress. "Is that a heel or an elbow she's gouging you with?"

"I'm not sure. Early on, I was pretty sure it was one of her heels. Last week, I would have sworn it was an elbow. However, Given the news she's brought us, it could be either one. Whichever it is, I can't get her to pummel a different spot. This wretched road is not helping. She doesn't like the potholes. I'm rapidly losing any appreciation for them; if I ever had any to begin with. After we get you settled in at Thorncrest Hall, I'm going to issue a decree and hire a road service. I'll have the stretch of road between all three kingdoms seen to. This is ridiculous! It should've been taken care of years ago."

"I know this isn't the best time to dredge up an argument we've already had, but I'm still not sure about that – settling me in, I mean."

"Not now. Robin, please."

"You have made your opinion perfectly known, mi'lady, but I still feel like there's something you haven't taken into account. Regina, your mother decided, probably before you were even born, that you would be queen. She raised you with that in mind. As much as I know you suffered from the experience, it did prepare you. You were given a lifetime of instruction on how to rule, and in this one particular instance, the fact that you were taught to rule by oppression and fear as opposed to generosity and compassion is immaterial. At least you were taught. I have no training of either kind. I have no idea how to take up this post that you are so eager to see me claim. How is that going to be beneficial to anyone who would be affected by the appointment?"

Regina sighs in agitation. "Substitute the word 'lead' for the word 'rule' and, don't you dare tell me you don't know how to do that, Robin Locksley. You've been doing it for years. Even in your absence, every one of those men and their families out there in Sherwood Forest has looked to you, or at the very least they've looked to the ideas and principles you left them with. The only difference is you'll be doing it from a proper house as opposed to fallen logs around a campfire. Stand in the service of what is right and give help where and when it's needed. The basic concept is the same; even if the trappings are worlds apart."

"Okay. That sounds simple enough. As long as I'm left to my own devices in my own little space. What happens when cooperation between kingdoms, the court, or parliament becomes necessary. I'm nowhere near as refined or polished as any of those people, and the fact that I have no desire to be is going to rub most of them the wrong way, and you know it."

Norah suppresses a chuckle when Regina rolls her eyes and smirks. "First, since when are you afraid of rubbing people the wrong way? When it comes down to doing what's right, you won't care if you bruise a few egos, and we both know that. Second, you're married to me. Sorry, thief, but that fact alone is automatically going to rub a lot of people the wrong way. So, I hate to tell you this, but you're already positioned squarely behind the eight ball. If I believed for one second you couldn't prevail in spite of that fact, I would never have suggested your coming here."

Robin raises an eyebrow. "Suggested? As I recall, you insisted?"

Regina shrugs. "And I wasn't wrong to do it. You'll be fine. I have complete confidence in you."

"And, if King John doesn't share your confidence?"

"Then you'll just have to convince him otherwise, a feat I'm absolutely certain you can manage."

"I see. And what is his opinion of you?"

Regina clicks her tongue against the inside of her cheek. With neither anger or self-pity, she states plainly, "Nobody around here likes me. You already know that. John is not going to be any different. In fact, he's going to be more difficult than some. Years ago, Mother tried to forge a union between myself and his eldest son. I snubbed the boy, and John took it rather personally. When I went dark, I'm sure he counted the failed union as one of his blessings, but he won't easily trust that I've changed and therefore, your marriage to me will, no doubt, breed suspicion in his mind."

Robin sighs heavily and squeezes her shoulders with affection before he returns to his former seat beside Norah. "At least forewarned is forearmed."

"I only wish his politics were a little more closely aligned with his brother's. King Richard would have liked you."

Robin flashes his best smile. "I'm fairly certain he did, love. He officiated over my marriage to Marian. She was his cousin."

Regina offers him the barest hint of a smile then squints, momentarily deep in thought. "Yes, I think you've mentioned that once before, and it's impressive. However, I'm not certain if it will be a help or a hindrance with King John. The two brothers were not known for seeing eye to eye, or even for enjoying each other's company."

Robin shrugs. "I'll think of something; whatever it takes to keep Nottingham or any of his ilk from claiming the post."

"We'll have to assess the situation once we arrive. After that, I might make better counsel."

"The only counsel I need."

"Thank you but be careful. Don't pigeonhole yourself. If the ruling class thinks I'm the only one who's got your ear, that will hurt you more than it helps you. You might talk to Alan. He's got a good head on his shoulders, and I believe he mentioned a connection to the House of Barrows."

"Aye, but I'm not sure how much good it will do him. He hasn't been home for a number of years."

"That doesn't matter. If the House of Barrows is home, he has at least some notion of how the game is played. He's at least vaguely familiar with the royal rumba. He might make an excellent confidant or an ideal cabinet member. You'll want to surround yourself with people others will find credible; as many of them as possible."

Before Robin can once again state that he has absolutely no desire to dance the royal rumba, the carriage slows marginally, and Percival reigns his horse in alongside and taps on the carriage door.

Closest of the three, Norah rises to her feet and carefully releases the door latch.

"For the queen." Personal hands over a folded scrap of paper.

Regina raises an eyebrow and takes possession of the folded note. Unfolding it, and scanning it briefly, she addresses Percival directly. "Message received and understood." Regina passes the note to Robin, who reads it through with his daughter peering over his shoulder. "Please tell my sister to precede with caution, and that upon arrival in Oz, if she finds she requires assistance, she should… send up a smoke signal."

Percival chuckles merrily. "Right away, Your Majesty." He pauses his return to the second carriage when Norah inquires, "They're going to Oz? Can I go with them? I've never been…"

Robin cuts her off; shaking his head adamantly. "Absolutely not. You are to stay where I can see you, or at the very least, within calling distance at all times."

Norah opens her mouth intent on protest, but quickly snaps it shut again upon catching sight of the stern expression on Robin's face. Turning to her mother, she scowls. "I'm not even born yet, and already he's got that look mastered. Somehow, that doesn't seem fair."

Regina chuckles and waits for Percival to depart before she quietly admits, "That might be my fault. Occasionally, he looks at me that way too."

Norah smiles without comment and studies the comical look that silently passes between her parents. She quickly forgets all desire to explore Oz. It's one thing to listen to her father talk about her mother. It's quite another to sit and bear witness to the unyielding bond even her mother's death will not shake.

Once Zelena's carriage breaks away, the caravan marches slowly forward for another forty-five minutes before coming to a complete stop to allow Regina's father to board momentarily.

"This is where I leave you, my girl. Beatrice will ride with you the rest of the way, and I will send word as soon as I arrive in Covarrachia."

Regina nods. "Daddy, I wish you would reconsider going the rest of the way on horseback. Take one of the carriages. You'll be safer and more comfortable."

Henry waves the comment aside and kisses his daughter's cheek. "A small battalion of Merry Men is joining me. I feel perfectly safe in their company, and the fresh air is good for me. It's nice to be traveling astride again." He smiles at Beatrice. Thank you for the company, and I trust you will not let either of my girls out of your sight in my absence."

Beatrice shakes her head and vows, "Upon my honor."

Henry claps a hand on Robin's shoulder and turns for the door, taking his granddaughter's outstretched hand in his as he steps from the carriage once more. "Stay out of trouble, and I'll see you soon, Bumblebee."

As Henry mounts his horse and rides away waving, Beatrice steps into the carriage questioning, "Bumblebee, not Firefly?"

Norah shakes her head. "Daddy's the only one who calls me Firefly. Bumblebee probably came about at least in part because of my name. When he was little, Roland called me Norah-Bea. He still does occasionally; especially if he wants something. That, and Papa read somewhere that, according to scientists, the bumblebee shouldn't be able to fly. It's disproportionately large body mass far exceeds the weight it's tiny wings should be able to support. Papa has his own theory. Ever since I was a little girl, he has maintained that the bumblebee flies because she doesn't know she can't."

Robin's blue eyes shine with affection for both the girl at his side and her grandfather. "How appropriate."

Norah's eyes widen in surprise. "Really, I guess you haven't lost your appreciation for that sentiment yet."

Robin squints. "Why would I?"

Aware that she's about to tell on herself, Norah smirks. It's a facial expression that Robin clearly recognizes as Regina's and in the moment before their daughter speaks, he finds himself wondering if it's inherited; encoded in her very DNA, or if it is something she has simply picked up through observation in the scant amount of time the two females have been in each other's company.

"When I was two – or, when I am two, I nick one of Aunt Zelena's brooms and try to fly off the roof of the barn. Probably would've killed myself if Aunt Zelena hadn't been there at just the right moment to see me take a running leap and lower me gently to the ground."

Beatrice covers her mouth in shock. Her son looks absolutely horrified and Regina instantly glares at him.

"I don't suppose you want to tell me how my two-year-old manages to get all the way to the roof of our barn without you noticing; a roof that's more than 80 feet from the ground!"

In his own defense, Robin shakes his head wildly as he shrugs. "How should I know? It hasn't happened yet!"

Norah cuts in. "Mom, don't be angry with Daddy. It wasn't his fault. I used magic to get up there."

Still glowering, Regina demands, "Why would you do that?"

Norah shrugs. "I was two. Daddy calls me Firefly. Papa calls me Bumblebee. I thought I could fly; especially if I had one of Aunt Zelena's magic broomsticks. I guess it never occurred to me that they could both be wrong." She giggles apologetically as the adults in the carriage groan collectively.

Robin points a finger at his wife. "You cannot leave me alone with this beautiful… magical… creature. Do you hear me? You are not allowed to die!"

Norah objects playfully and elbows her father stiffly in the ribs. "Hey, I'm not a creature."

* * *

Meanwhile, in the carriage bound for Oz, Eliana admires the ultra-feminine slave bracelet resting gracefully against the back of her mother's hand. Barely daring to breathe, she caresses its precious metal with tentative fingers. The bracelet and ring are each comprised of wide bands of 24-karat gold lace filigree and generously studded with elegant pear-cut emeralds

"You like it?"

Eliana nods with unmistakable enthusiasm. "It's exquisite."

Mindful of the delicate clasp, Zelena turns her hand palm up and removes the accessory before carefully re-fastening it on her daughter's wrist.

Zelena raises a concerned eyebrow when Eliana eyes the jewelry with delight but still shakes her head adamantly.

"Mum, I can't take this. It's yours. Besides, Daddy doesn't like it when I wear your jewelry. I'm not sure if it's because it makes me remind him of you even more than usual, or if it's because he's afraid I'll damage it. But, he'll have some sort of meltdown if he sees me wearing this; especially if he gave it to you."

Zelena's shrugs as if she hasn't a care in the world. Your father's not here right now. Besides, it isn't mine. Not anymore. I'm giving it to you. If he has a problem with that, he can take it up with me." She studies her daughter for a long moment. "He doesn't let you wear jewelry?"

Eliana shakes her head. "That's not what I meant. Daddy gives me jewelry or something else equally expensive for every major holiday or gift-giving event. And that's fine by me, I like pretty things. But he won't let me touch anything that belongs to you. He promised he was going to give me most of it someday. He usually keeps his promises too, but he's got some sort of extreme unnatural attachment to everything that ever belonged to you, Mum. No one else better touch it. Some people shouldn't even look at it."

Zelena reaches for her hand. "He's grieving. Or he was. I bet things will be different going forward."

Eliana gives her mother a look that is devoid of all but a single skittish tiny little spark of hope and whispers sadly, "Uncle Robin grieved for Aunt Regina. Some days he still does. He keeps all her things too. Well, maybe not all of them but a lot of them. The difference is, 99% of what he keeps is in storage. Except for the really important things, and the things he gave to Norah and the boys, her stuff is not sitting around like she's going to breeze through the door at any moment and pick it up again. That's grieving. That's what Uncle Robin did. That's what he does. What Dad does is something different. It took him awhile, but eventually, Uncle Robin went on with life as best he could. Our house is a lavishly decorated mausoleum. He hasn't, but it's almost as though Daddy has found a way to make time stand still in your absence. The day you left us he completely shut down. He doesn't live, Mum. He only exists."

The wicked witch wraps her arms around her teary-eyed daughter. "I didn't mean to sacrifice your happiness. Can you forgive me?"

Eliana squints at her mother in confusion. "I'm not mad at you. There's nothing to forgive. You were trying to get Aunt Regina back. I get that."

"Yes, Eliana, apparently I was, but I never meant for you to be the one to pay the price."

"Me? Pay the price? You sound like Norah." Eliana rolls her eyes as she mimics her cousin and closest friend. "Magic always comes with a price." Mum, she's so talented; so powerful, but she keeps her abilities tucked away like specimens in a jar in the back of some obscure cobweb-filled pantry. She typically won't use her magic at all unless she has no other choice. She's wanted to come here for years. She wants her own memories of Regina; not just the ones that people are willing to share with her. Still, I had to push just to get her here."

Zelena nods. "She's not wrong. You make her sound a little overly cautious. That's probably your uncle's influence at work, but you can't blame him. Not if there are witch hunters roaming around in your time. Losing someone we love makes us cling that much tighter to the ones we still have. More often than not, it's probably that clinging that makes people so desperate to get away from us; something it sounds as though you might know a great deal about. You've had a bad time looking after your dad, haven't you?"

Eliana groans miserably. "He drives me insane… But I love him so much. Sometimes I want to, but I can't leave him!"

Zelena laughs quietly. "Even if I hadn't gone and blown myself to bits, you'd probably still experience those moments, just on a slightly less intense scale. I think that's just part of being a teenage girl… At least for most of us anyway. Do you at least have a boyfriend or boyfriends?"

Eliana offers up a wry chuckle. "What, you mean with Lord Death for a father? You have got to be kidding, right? If a boy dares to glance my way twice, dad will suddenly start talking loudly about the eternal flames of Tartarus."

Zelena's smiles.

"No, it's not funny. I'm not kidding. I'm telling you; he sounds like one of those charismatic sidewalk evangelists, shouting at the rain, preaching at the top of his voice about the end of days, fire and brimstone. Boys won't get near me. They look at him like he's going to start speaking in tongues and handling serpents at any moment and they run for the hills! They leave the starting line faster than the last triple crown winner." Eliana shrugs. "It's just as well though. I'm not really interested."

Zelena's shoots her daughter a look of uncertainty and then shrugs. "Okay then, how about a girlfriend?"

"Ugh, Mum, don't be gross! I mean, if other people wanna do that, it's fine with me. But not me. If I am going to date anybody, he will be a boy! Some of them are really cute. But…"

"But what?"

"Love makes people crazy; that's what."

"Eliana, there's more to it than just…"

She shakes her head vehemently. "Love makes people crazy. People meet, they like each other, they spend time together, they fall in love, they lose each other… And then they lose their minds. If you could see our house, if you could see evidence of what it's done to Daddy… Why would anybody in their right minds want that? No thank you, I'll pass!"

Zelena inhales patiently. "Sometimes we don't have a choice. Sometimes it happens regardless of what we want."

Eliana squints. "You and Daddy?"

"No, I wanted your father the first moment I laid eyes on him. I was referring to your Aunt Regina. Do you really think the evil queen wanted to fall in love with an altruistic forest-dwelling, carriage-robbing thief? Do you really think she'd didn't put up a fight?"

Eliana scowls as she thinks it through. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I won't have a choice either, but I'm going to avoid it for as long as I can."


	13. Chapter 13

* * *

**Nottingham**

**Present Day**

Alan dismounts without a word and leaves his horse's reins draped loosely over the low hanging branch of a weeping willow. Aradia Crowley hums softly, entertaining the flowers in the bed she kneels before. She does not acknowledge his presence, any more than he acknowledges his arrival, but one look over her stooped shoulder and he helps himself to the shovel propped against her whitewashed picket fence and thrusts the business end of it violently into the black soil between her gloved hand and the brown and gold garden predator that is poised and ready to strike.

Calmly, she eyes the forged steel spade protruding from the dirt as the snake strikes against it and instantly recoils; stunned by the barrier it suddenly finds in its path. Before the reptile has time to recover and strike again, she watches Alan grab it just behind its head, giving it no room to turn on him and hurl it over her fence.

"Away with you; you vile creature."

Quietly, she laughs at him. "You should have let it bite me. Snakes cannot hurt me, and now you've traumatized it."

Alan raises an eyebrow. "Not even if it's venomous?"

Aradia shakes her head. "I am immune to such mundane threats, and you know it."

Shrugging, he settles himself lightly atop the pale pink and gray stones that line her flower bed. "Doesn't matter. I still don't want the thing to bite you. No matter how fleetingly, it would still hurt."

She smiles with dry amusement and shakes her head. "And if it had bitten you instead? What then? For all your many attributes, immortality is not among them. You risk your very existence just to spare me two seconds of discomfort. If I did not know better, I would be tempted to question your intelligence."

He chuckles wryly. "If you did, I daresay you would neither be the first, nor the last to do it."

"I'm assuming you found Robin."

"Aye, that I did."

"I thought you would be gone longer."

"So, did I, but there's trouble. I've come back to find out if there's anything you can do to help."

"I'm listening."

"I took Beatrice to Robin as planned. Nearly the moment we arrived; we were off to a new destination – Elyria. It's a long story, but Beatrice wants Robin to claim his rightful place as Marquis."

Aradia's eyes widen in surprise. "What?"

Alan simply nods.

"I take it then that Beatrice is somehow related to Lady Cecelia."

"No. Robin was, for all intents and purposes, adopted."

"The marchioness had a child."

Alan nods again.

Aradia talks herself through the process, not really requiring his assurances. "She had a child not fathered by the Marquis who holds his title courtesy of marriage only. She had Robin." Mildly dazed by the discovery, she leaves her knees and pivots herself around to sit shoulder to shoulder with him on the stones around the flower bed.

He doesn't bother to nod a third time. It isn't necessary.

"I shouldn't be surprised." Aradia breathes quietly as she pulls off her gardening gloves, shakes them free of loose dirt and places them neatly in her lap. "It happens more often than most people know. But still. Robin Hood? Infamous prince among thieves – the true and rightful Marquis of Elyria?" Quiet for a long moment, she then catches her companion completely by surprise when she lifts her face to the sky and laughs boldly and freely. "I'd risk my own execution to see the look on Nottingham's face when he finds out."

"Nottingham's behind bars."

Aradia elbows her young lover stiffly in the ribs. "Don't tease me!"

Alan smiles and raises his right hand in testament. "May Zeus, Ruler of the Olympians, strike me down with lightning if I'm lying. George Nottingham, Sheriff of Sherwood is, at present, locked in the dungeon of the Black Palace in the Enchanted Forest. He tried to lay siege to the kingdom… and he failed."

She barely returns his light kiss before gently pushing away to scowl up at him and demand, "Tell me more. Tell me every delicious detail!"

In response to the glow of youthful wonder pouring from the bright blue eyes set in her lightly wizened face, he chuckles heartily. "Turns out, our prince among thieves, as you so generously call him, has gone and gotten himself hitched to none other than the evil queen."

Aradia shoots him a look, not of doubt, but of excited wonder. "Your fearless leader has married a monarch? The darkest of all monarchs?"

Alan shrugs as he nods in the affirmative yet again "Only, there seems to be some question as to just how evil she really is anymore."

The fine lines around Aradia's eyes crinkle deeply as she smiles. “Good."

Somehow, Alan feels he should have known she would accept this bit of information without an overwhelming display of doubt. When he raises an eyebrow just for the sake of curiosity, she shrugs easily.

"Most people are lazy and boring. No matter how unhappy they are, they lack the strength of character necessary for real change. People who have the fortitude to undertake such a painstaking process fascinate me immeasurably."

"There's more to be fascinated with.” Alan waits until Aradia squints curiously before adding, "They're expecting a child. A girl. She's due any day now. When they tried to travel to Elyria, something went awry, and we arrived in the Enchanted Forest at the same moment that their nearly 17-year-old daughter attempted to travel back in time to reach them. According to the lass, something goes wrong with her delivery. It would seem that Her Majesty's days are numbered unless something can be done to help mother and child. Robin's in agony – nearly torn in two by his desire to do something to stop Nottingham, and the desire to take his heavily pregnant wife home to Storybrooke, the place they live now where they have better medicine than anything this world can offer. He has confided in me, and I said I would travel back here and ask for your help. I know how you feel about tampering with destiny but, Aradia… it's Robin. I wouldn't ask for anyone else. No one else is worthy."

Aradia waves the comment aside. "Free will and fate are always at war with one another. She places her hand in his and stands, pulling him gently to his feet. "I suppose we'd better shove off. If a 16-year-old girl has courage enough to brave the dangers of time travel for the chance to save her mother, I'm not going to be the one to rain on her parade."

* * *

**The Black Palace's Dungeon**

**Present Day**

By the afternoon of his second day of incarceration, Nottingham knows every inch of his barren cell. By night his accommodations are cold and clammy. By day, sultry and oppressive enough to make the rough stone walls glisten with beaded moisture as if the dungeon itself is capable of sweating. Regardless of the time of day or night, the inhospitable climates do nothing to assuage his sour moods. Nor does his isolation. No one else is down here. The fact that he is the dungeon's sole occupant strikes him as odd. Given Her Majesty's temperament, he would've expected to find himself chained to a wall in a place so overcrowded that there was standing room only. He finds this stark contrast to his assumption alarming. Maybe she takes no prisoners. Maybe she kills the lot of them. He wouldn't have put it past her to feed them all to a pet dragon. Yet, here he is, the only occupant. Why? Why keep him alive? This one question; or rather the possible answers to this one question unnerve him far more than the thought of death by fireball. If not incineration, what does she have in store for him? Evil witch! He must get out of here. He must find his way out. He must make her pay. But how to accomplish it?

Since the person who brings his meals is regrettably always male, he can't even whittle away the hours with a salacious daydream involving himself alone with some scantily clad wench. He keeps hoping for one, one he might possibly charm into accidentally letting him escape this place, but so far, the only people he has seen are men. One of them, a short barrel-chested fellow who has the unyielding look of a blacksmith; a man used to hard labor. A man capable of swinging a 9-pound hammer with ease and agility. Nottingham quickly dispatches with the idea of overpowering him. The other is a 60-something-year-old fellow who is tall and reedy. Easily overpowered, but smart enough to simply slide his meal tray through the narrow gap at the bottom of the cell door. Neither of them has said more than two words to him with each visit. So, when he hears the outer door of the dungeon open, he barely stirs as he thinks about the contents of his previous meal, porridge, fried bread, and poached eggs. Breakfast food. That must make this his dinner. It's so dark down here, he has no other means with which to gauge the time of day. Seconds before they appear, he realizes that what he hears is not one, but two sets of footsteps approaching. This knowledge at least leads him to press his hands to the wall behind him and push himself to his feet. Half hopeful, half fearful, he waits and then tries not to look crestfallen when he realizes that it is not mealtime at all. The old doctor has returned to check on his broken nose. Unfortunately, he's not alone. He brought the other one with him; the one who looks like a blacksmith, a brawler… protection.

Nottingham says nothing as he sneers and allows his nose to be tended to while the other one stands guard.

As the palace's medical man leaves, he announces flatly, "You'll live."

Nottingham scoffs, unsure if his words are offered hope or a taunt.

As his cell door is locked again. The doctor turns back eyeing him with speculation through the flat iron bars. "Though if I were you, I would try to avoid having that nose broken again. Clearly, it's been broken more than once and I daresay it healed poorly the last time. Another repetition will do nothing to improve the looks of it."

Nottingham kicks a mound of dirty hay in frustration and accidentally overturns his own chamber pot.

Shaking their heads at his unfortunate behavior the old physician and his bodyguard walk away shrugging because, as long as he has no means of escape, the state of the prisoner's cell is of no concern to either of them.

Sometime later, he doesn't know if it's one hour or four, but sometime later another group of visitors arrives; a plump housekeeper with a care-worn face and piercing blue eyes, in the company of two of the palace's hooded Black Knights. They bypass his cell without a word. When they muck out old hay and bring in fresh, he assumes he's getting a neighbor. No sooner than the housekeeper clears the cell and steps a safe distance away, the two knights enter his cell and march him out and then into the other. They lock him in and stand guard while the gray-haired woman cleans the cell he just vacated. Twenty minutes later, when she exits, she straightens her apron with hostility as she glares at him fearlessly. "You make a mess like that again, and you'll live with your own filth indefinitely."

Hoping to frighten her, or at the very least, to ruffle the old gal's feathers, he parts his lips and wriggles his tongue from side to side in a lewd fashion.

Much to his displeasure, she laughs in his face and walks away unaffected.

Shouting over her laughter, he informs her escorts, "I'd like a moment of the queen's time."

Now the damn guards are laughing too.

As they depart, one of them turns back and although he cannot see his face, Nottingham knows the guard is smiling snidely. "You and half the men in the kingdom."

* * *

**Covarrachia**

**Mourning Dale Palace**

After careful and surreptitious reconnaissance of the palace and its grounds, a large faction of the Merry Men, along with a healthy smattering of Black Knights, and their temporarily appointed leader regroup in the shaded glen between two hilltops just beyond the palace gates. A hushed and brief conversation is held in which the men discuss the most expedient way to roust the current palace occupants.

Percival declares, "There aren't many of them. The guard appears to be comprised of a skeleton crew filled with men who are tired, hung over, and soft around the middle from too many nights spent getting that way. Our numbers are about equal, but we are in better physical shape. Besting them won't be a problem. Still, I vote we go around back and force entry through the kitchens and servants' quarters. There are noticeably fewer members of the guard back there."

Will Scarlett shakes his head. "Aye, that would no doubt be our easiest point of entry, Percy, but I highly doubt the palace servants are up to any serious skullduggery. It's also unlikely that they are trained to fight. The potential for loss of innocent life is too great."

The man in charge sits tall in the saddle of a majestic bay stallion. "I would prefer no loss of life at all; innocent or otherwise. I will also insist upon a more direct approach, gentlemen. That palace belongs to me. While entry may be more easily gained through a side door, I will be damned if I will sneak around my own house or be forced to crawl in on my belly like some common thief."

Will Scarlett scowls uncomfortably. "Oy! Beggin' your pardon, Your Majesty, but some of the boys – meself included, might take that personally."

The old king chuckles genially. "I see no reason why you should. I believe I said common thief, did I not? At present, I find myself to be in the company of exceptional thieves. Therefore, I shall hold you to a higher standard. There will be no creeping through the bushes. There will be no breaking and entering. My good men, ready your bows. Fire only if you are fired upon. Strive to injure, not to kill, wherever possible. We are going, heads held high, through the front door."

Guffawing loudly and in full support of the plan, the king's men charge up over the hilltop and down again.

Pulling up alongside one of his brethren, Tuck says to Percival over the thundering of horse's hoofs, "The old bookworm has a pair of stones!"

Still laughing, Percy volleys back, "Maybe the queen didn't learn everything she knows from dear old mummy after all."

Riding hard, they streak toward the heavy iron gate, bows and javelins at the ready, but holding their fire.

The palace guard closes rank and shouts, "Halt! You shall retreat, or you shall be fired upon!"

Laughing as if he is half-mad, Will Scarlett announces loudly, "Open the gates and stand aside or you shall be trampled."

The captain of the guard who is a lean rangy sharp-featured man with small black eyes, that are set too wide apart, giving his face a flat vacant look, scowls belligerently and glares at the four lead men. "Upon whose authority? Who dares challenge my men?"

As far back as he can see, rows of four men on horseback are parted down the center, splitting the men into pairs of two, as they make way for the old man who cantors slowly to a stop at the head of the line where he calmly removes his gloves and tucks them away inside his cloak before announcing confidently, "The authority would be mine. I am Henry Covarrubia. This is my kingdom." He points nonchalantly to the palace beyond the gate. That is my house, and you, young sir, are trespassing."

"You lie! I don't know what asylum you escaped from, old man, but Henry Covarrubia died more than 30 years ago. He was killed by his own heartless bitch of a daughter. She then left his kingdom to ruin."

Before addressing the guard again, Henry turns to the men behind him. "Light 'em up, boys." He studies the guard who watches silently as too many arrows to count are swiftly set aflame, then he leans forward in the saddle and beckons with the slight crook of his finger.

The belligerent guard approaches cautiously with his eyes widening rapidly as Henry straightens the heavy fabric of his cloak, putting the royal crest emblazoned over his left shoulder clearly on display before he whispers ominously, "If I can defeat death, if I can rise from the grave, do you imagine that you and your pathetic little army of lackluster men will be any challenge for me at all?" The king pauses to gesture to the merry rabble behind him. "Ask yourself. Whoever's in there, whomever you're serving, are they worth it? Open the gates. Leave now. Leave willingly and without complaint, and I guarantee, you leave with your lives intact. Resist if you want, but beware, I will reduce the place to ash and cinder before I allow you, and whomever you serve, to remain."

* * *

**Oz – Just beyond The Emerald City**

**Present day**

Zelena clenches her teeth and groans in agony as her carriage juts and bounces over the golden road.

Too spellbound to notice her mother's grimace, Eliana stares out the window in rapturous wonder of all she sees as they enter the gates of Emerald City. Her blue eyes twinkle and she purrs with the soft thrill of delight as they make the first hilltop, and the highest tower of the Emerald Palace comes into view.

"Daddy said it was real. He promised it was more than just a story in a book but…" She falls silent, her elbows resting on the window until she has seen all that she can see from her current vantage point. Eager for more, she gets up and quickly moves to the other side of the carriage; her eyes ready to drink in whatever can be seen from the opposite window.

Zelena momentarily forgets her discomfort. "You look like a kid who just caught sight of the first snowflakes to fall on Christmas Eve."

Eliana doesn't dare to take her eyes away from the sweeping view before her; afraid she might miss the first opportunity to see something miraculous if she does. "I feel like one."

Zelena's squints. "You've been here before."

"I know, but Mum, I was really little then.

"Can't you remember anything at all from that visit?"

"Not any of this. Not the city. This is unbelievable! Storybrooke is nothing but a postage stamp compared to this."

"Well, what do you remember?"

"Well… I remember a room. A room so big it echoed when I ran from one end to the other… and when I laughed. Nearly everything in there was green. I remember lots of glass."

"Glass?"

Eliana nods lost in her own vague childhood memories. "Tall windows with dazzling light catchers, mirrors, lots of shiny reflective surfaces. I could see my own face every which way I turned. I used to like it when Dad's head caught fire. He'd throw these magnificent blue flames and make silly faces just to make me laugh. In that room, with all the reflections, he was everywhere I turned. I remember, we were playing hide and seek. I saw the toes of his shoes sticking out from under these heavy green drapes and when I tried to peek behind them, he jumped out, roaring like a great old bear. He tossed me up into the air, and even before he caught me he set fire to the drapes. I remember you scowling. I remember him snapping his fingers and then petting the restored draperies – 'Look, see! They're fine. No harm was done.' You were trying to talk to someone. I don't remember who. I guess we were making too much noise. You and this other lady went out this grand tall marble door and left Daddy and me to entertain ourselves."

Zelena offers a smile that holds more annoyance than pleasure. "An hour later I came back, and you were literally perched on the chandelier 100 feet overhead. I screamed at Hades to get you down and your fool of a father laughed. He laughed!"

"That was only because you were acting as if he put me up there. He didn't. I magiced myself up there. It looked like a fun place to sit and swing with all the pretty crystals casting rainbows around the room. Daddy was watching me. He wouldn't have let me fall. It didn't seem scary at all until you started screaming. Well, I guess that was kind of funny too."

Zelena raises an eyebrow. "It's funny when I scream?"

Her daughter nods. "But only because of Daddy. Big bad god of the underworld - Lord Death comes completely untethered if his wife so much as frowns in disapproval."

Zelena rolls her eyes as the carriage comes to a stop in the royal courtyard. "Come on. You two turned my grand hall into your own personal playground. I'll take you back there. Maybe on the way, I can figure out what the hell those annoying little munchkins have been doing in my absence. They certainly haven't been working. There are crater-size potholes in the yellow brick road." She hisses without even acknowledging the footman dressed head to toe in emerald and gold when she places her hand in his. As she steps gracefully down from the carriage, he bows deeply.

"Your Eminence."

Tucking her daughter's arm in hers, Zelena glides away, her head held high with her charcoal gray satin traveling cloak flapping briskly at her heels.

* * *

**The Underworld**

**Lord Death's Private Chamber**

Blindly hurling one of his prized possessions; sending it crashing into the nearest wall, Hades roars murderously. "Let me go back!"

Unmoved by his brother's temper, Zeus simply shakes his head. "Protecting your daughter is one thing. Trying to take your wife from the present into a future where she no longer lives is out of bounds. We had an agreement."

"The hell with our agreement! Tell me you would do less! Tell me you would do less for Hera … or any one of your other whores!"

"This is not about me. This is about you. This is about family. Your attachment to the redhead troubles me. It troubles me greatly, Hades."

"The redhead you speak so casually of is my wife! And the only reason you are troubled is that you have never truly loved a woman, Zeus."

His older brother chuckles aridly. "I love all my women to a depth you could not possibly fathom. What I fail to understand is how you could be so besotted by one who has proven herself to be so woefully unworthy of us."

"How dare you!" Hades seethes. "How dare you call her unworthy!"

The cavern floor trembles violently with his rage. The walls tremble and groan in protest of the coming explosion of tempers.

"How dare I? I dare because she put her own selfish desires ahead of the welfare of your child! We are gods! She was given the privilege of life among us. She was granted the honor of carrying your children! She spit on that privilege when she used your unborn child and the power he possessed to attempt time travel. Tell me, brother, how do you forgive that?"

"I forgive it because I have no choice! I have no choice because it was my fault! She wanted my help. She pleaded with me, and I refused. I refused because I was trying to appease you. Well, no more! I'm done! You can leave me down here for all eternity if it pleases you, you rotten bastard! But if you're going to leave me down here, don't sentence your niece to the same empty hollow existence. She's done nothing to deserve this place. Leave her where she is. Leave her at least one parent!"

I have no intention of punishing Eliana. The motives that govern her actions are pure, free of guile and self-indulgence. She's done as she has out of unfettered, untainted, love as much for her mother as for her cousin; and even for you."

"How can you call Zelena's attempt so wrong, and Eliana's so right? Can't you see? They were both acts of love."

"The difference is; those girls… They risked no lives but their own, and they did so with all the knowledge and reverence they are capable of possessing at their young age. Your wife… She sacrificed the life of an unborn demigod. A child not even capable of understanding; much less consent. She used him and his power as a means to an end. That is neither knowledge, nor reverence. That is blatant hubris. It is deplorably…" Zeus spits his next word out as if it leaves a foul taste on his tongue. "human." Zelena was born with great power; power she isn't even fully aware of. One should not wield such power without due respect. Why should she be allowed to possess such power? Why should she even be allowed to live with such power coursing through her veins if she's going to look down her nose at it even as she uses it? She chose her path. If that path changes, it will not be at the hand of a god. Not after she sacrificed one to take this path."

"She didn't do it on purpose!"

"Oh, yes she did. I heard her. 'I'm sure I must've thought, if it goes wrong, Hades will fix it.' In her mind, she could blow herself and her child to smithereens… And it's okay. If it happens, the god I'm married to will fix it… Such arrogance, such vanity, such disgusting hubris!" Zeus laughs with loathing and self-deprecation. "She really is one of us, brother."

"If you can admit that we are guilty of that same hubris, how can you not forgive her?"

"In your exile, Hades there are things you do not know. You have no idea how dangerous she could have become."

Hades scoffs. "Zelena? Dangerous?" He laughs. "You just don't understand her. She's certainly no more dangerous than her mother or her sister, and no less worthy of a full life."

"She had a full life. As did Cora and Regina. Cora is still here in this loathsome world you've created. She clings to it. She refuses to move on. Searching for a rebirth she is not worthy of…"

"Yes, yes, of this I am aware. She's a constant thorn in my side. She's here. Zelena is not, and I understand the reasons why. My wife scattered herself. She scattered her very soul. The one thing I don't understand. The one thing that has puzzled me for nearly 17 years is… Where is Regina? She died, but she's not here. She never came through here on her way to anywhere else, be it good or bad. So, pardon the banal turn of phrase, but where the hell is she?"

"Regina spent the last years of her life making a genuine effort to be a better version of herself. She struggled with that effort daily. Did you really think that, in death, I was just going to turn her over to you so that you could use the darkness she fought so hard to control for your own personal self-adulation?"

Hades laughs bitterly. "Of course not! But where is she? Don't tell me she's up there on the mountain."

"No. She's not ready for that yet."

Hades enunciates each word carefully, "Then… where… is… she? My wife died trying to bring her back from wherever she is. Or, at the very least, trying to stop her from going there in the first place. The least you can do is answer my question."

"For the time being, Regina is where she's supposed to be. It's no concern of yours. Beyond that, all I will say is that her soul is neither at rest nor is it in torment."

"Like that matters to me!"

"Perhaps it should."

Hades opens his mouth, but before he can make any further demands for information, his brother disappears in a flash of lightning and a rolling cacophony of thunder.

* * *

**The Road to Elyria**

Idly aware of the miles droning on, Regina reclines across the length of one of the carriage seats, taking up all but the narrow space where her daughter is settled, and resting her head and shoulders against a wall of the carriage. Eyes closed and lingering in the nowhere space between sleep and waking, she listens to the soft, nearly inaudible, sound of her daughter humming a poignant and very familiar tune while Robin quietly turns the pages of a book titled, Hierarchy of The Reign; From Subject to Sovereign.

When she smells salt and sand on the breeze, she knows that the ocean is immediately to the west and that, although they are nearing the outer gates of Elyria, their journey will not end for at least another two hours. Opening her eyes, she stretches uncomfortably. When she touches her wrist and finds no timepiece there she leans forward slightly and peers out the window into the afternoon sunlight.

Sensing her movement, Robin looks up from the pages of his book. Guessing what's on her mind, he answers her without ever being asked a question. "It's about 3:30." On the verge of asking a question of his own, he pauses when one of the guards on horseback gallops up alongside the carriage and speaks to the driver, who then slows and gently raps against the forward-facing wall of the carriage with his knuckles.

Half rising from his seat, Robin releases the latch, pokes his head out the door, and converses momentarily before glancing back over his shoulder at her. "Want to get out and stretch your legs before we hit the outlying villages?"

Regina offers a slight smile and moans as if she's never desired anything more in her lifetime. "God, yes."

His blue eyes twinkle briefly with a look that is meant only for her before Robin nods to the driver and closes the door; temporarily reclaiming his seat. When another thought occurs to him, he frowns slightly. "We should have stopped for dinner well before now. You must be hungry."

"I am." She answers lightly, without complaint.

"Why did you wait? You should have said something."

Regina chuckles dryly and rubs her own belly with affection. "She's due any day now, Robin. I've reached a point where I'm almost always hungry. I'm not starving her, but it would not be good for me to eat every time the impulse strikes. I'd be eating around the clock, and that wouldn't be good for either of us."

"Cold meals are the best we can do on this long trip, but, you'll have something as soon as we stop."

Twenty-five minutes later when the carriage does pull to a stop thirty yards from the stone seawall surrounding one of the small outlying villages of Elyria, Robin jumps down from the carriage and waits for his daughter and mother to do the same before removing a heavy wooden block from beneath one of the seats and placing it carefully on the ground. When he offers Regina his hand, she takes it even as she smirks and asks, "What's wrong with the step that folds down?"

"What, that tiny little iron bar that's all of four inches long and maybe one inch in diameter?" He shakes his head. "Not good enough. just one missed step and down you'll go. What if you snag one of those spiked heels?"

When she safely on the ground, he glances down at her feet beneath the raised hem of her skirt and eyes a pair of stylish boots that are uncharacteristically devoid of any sort of heel at all. She shrugs as he teases lightheartedly. "It wasn't my imagination. You are shorter."

She shakes her head, laughing at him. "How very observant of you, Thief. I haven't worn any sort of spiked heel for nearly four months. They have become a little less than sturdy. I don't know if you're aware of this, but my center of gravity has changed. I'm getting a little heavier around the middle."

Robin places the wooden step back in the carriage and grabs his knapsack, slinging it over his shoulder as he closes the door. Taking her arm in his, he offers a wink. "Nope, haven't noticed a thing."

Norah, along with Beatrice, shakes her head in response to her parents' banter and lags a few steps behind. While her father picks a spot beside the seawall and drops his knapsack, she waits for Little John and his son to climb down from the driver's seat of the carriage. She helps bring down a crate that holds supplies and food for the small group of men traveling with them while her parents walk arm in arm toward the sandy beach and the water's edge.

Noticing a strained look on her face as she stares after them, J.J. nudges her with his shoulder and inquires quietly, "Something wrong."

She forces a smile and shakes her head with determination as she confides in a whisper, "No. I'm just not used to seeing Daddy this carefree. If this thing doesn't work out right, I'm really going to miss that."

Standing too close to miss overhearing, Little John offers his own gruff brand of sympathy. "Aww, don't you go worryin’ none, lass. I've seen them two cheat death before. I'm right sure they'll be doin’ it again."

"I hope so." Norah answers distractedly as she, and her equally concerned grandmother, stare after the couple. They each watch quietly until Robin lowers himself onto the sand with Regina standing at his side, her hand resting lightly on his shoulder and the sunlight scattering tarnished gold highlights through their hair, but as he begins to unlace his boots, they are somehow each struck with the notion that their eyes are somehow intruding on a private moment and turn their attention to meal preparation, out of respect for the couple's privacy.

Staring out over the water, half mesmerized by the undulating rhythm of the great rolling waves, Regina waits while he shoves his socks into one of his boots and rolls his pant legs up to his calves. Lost in the tranquility of the relentless ebb and flow, she's not immediately aware that he has finished tending to himself and is attempting to remove her footwear as well. Coming suddenly out of her light trance, she dashes ½ step beyond his reach. "What are you doing?" She asks with something slightly accusatory in her voice.

Robin squints comically up at her as he scoots forward, reaching for her feet again. "Taking your boots and stockings off."

"Why?"

"So, you can walk barefoot in the surf with me."

Regina squints uncomfortably. "Why would I want to do that?"

Robin laughs. "Because it's what people do?"

"What people?"

"I don't know what people. Just people. It's relaxing."

Regina scowls doubtfully.

Robin keeps talking, trying to convince her even after he becomes aware that he sounds slightly silly in his insistence. "It feels good. People like it." Seriously perplexed by the look of confusion and doubt on her face, he folds his arms on top of his knees and raises an eyebrow. "Are you really going to stand there and tell me that you've never walked barefoot on the beach before?"

The light breeze dances through her hair and Regina tucks a few loose strands behind her left ear as she silently but adamantly shakes her head.

For a moment, her husband stares up at her as if a crime against humanity has been perpetrated right before his eyes. Then, he quickly decides that there's only one thing to be done for it. "Okay, well then, there's no time like the present." He gestures with one hand toward the tide even as he reaches with the other for her ankle once more.

Regina steps back again, but this time not quite as far away as she had done the first time.

Robin laughs. "Stop that. Come here. Trust me. You'll like it. You don't know what you're missing."

Regina tries to glare at him but the flint in her eyes lacks its usual intensity. She shakes her head. "I can’t do that."

"Don't be silly. Of course, you can. It's easy."

"It's not a question of how easy it is. I am a queen, Robin. We do not walk around in view of the public barefoot."

"First, you're not in public. You're on a secluded stretch of beach. Second, who made that rule?"

"I don't know who made the rule. That's just the way it is, okay?"

"No. No, it's not okay. A lot of hard work and effort when into you becoming queen. After all that, if you decide you want to walk down the beach beside your husband with your feet in the water, you should bloody well be allowed to do it."

Unconvinced, Regina sighs and smirks.

"There's nobody out here but Norah, me, and the boys. We won't tell anybody. Come on, love. Since when do I give your secrets away?"

Regina offers him the barest hint of a smile, but still pointedly resists. "The boys may not feel quite the same allegiance that you do."

Robin grins, rising to her challenge. "Okay, now you're just making up excuses. You don't believe that. If you really thought that, even just for one second, there's no way they would be here with us."

Regina looks away, uncomfortably unable to deny the truth in what he says.

Moving closer, he comes to his knees and reaches for her one last time. "Stop listening to your mother's voice in your head. She's not here. I am. Come take a walk with me."

She says absolutely nothing in response but when she doesn't attempt to move away again, he takes this for consent; however hesitant it may be. Knowing she may change her mind; Robin makes quick work of removing her boots and stockings.

As the second stocking slips down past her calf, she looks down at his smiling face and hisses with feigned hostility. "You are enjoying this entirely too much."

He shrugs, wholly unconcerned and whispers, "Since when don't I enjoy undressing you; even if it is only partially."

He comes to his feet as she says for his ears only, "I don't think I can recall even a single occurrence that you didn't look like you were having the time of your life."

"That's because I am."

"Every time?"

"Are you kidding? That's better than my birthday, Christmas, New Year's, Easter, and baseball season all rolled into one."

Regina smirks. "Just undressing me, or are you counting what comes after that, too?"

Tugging her along, Robin steps to the water's edge, where he lets the tide lap coolly over his bare feet as he shakes his head. "No. Just the undressing." He chuckles softly when he notices that although she's holding his hand, walking alongside him, she's also keeping herself an arm's length away so that her bare feet are still safe on the warm sand. Letting go of her hand, he drapes an arm around her waist and quickly pulls her into the surf, laughing aloud when she dances back the way she came, shocked, open-mouthed, and glaring at him as if he has just slapped her.

"I thought your sister was supposed to be the one afraid of getting wet."

"I am not afraid of water!" She hisses darkly even as her lower lip begins to tremble violently. "I am not going to melt. But that water is cold! It's icy. Robin, why is the water so cold on such a warm day?"

Robin reins in his laughter a bit. "It's not that bad."

"Says you! You like bathing in the river. So, for you, walking in the ocean is no big deal. I like my bath water…"

She shivers even as he finishes for her. "Hot enough to scald. I'm sorry. I should've let you wade in when you chose to do it.

She slaps his hands away when he reaches for her again. "Yes, you should have!"

He holds out his hand, offering it to her. "I won't do it again."

Eyeing him with skepticism, she declares sternly, "You better not. Do that again, and I promise you, before I die, you're going to regret it."

"That might not be for another 50 years."

"All evidence to the contrary."

Robin simply stares at her; despair momentarily clouding his blue eyes before he shakes his head adamantly. "I'm not going to accept that."

Regina scoffs bitterly. "I'm not sure your refusal to accept it will change the inevitable."

A flash of anger contorts his face even as he forces himself to speak calmly. "Don't do that! Don't you dare give up, Regina."

"I have no intention of giving up, Robin. If I'm going, I'm going out swinging. I just can't help feeling like maybe karma is rearing her ugly head."

He exhales sadly. "I wish you wouldn't think that way."

"I can't seem to help it. I've finally found the place that I have been looking for my whole life. I have you, the boys…" Regina splays a protective hand over her belly. "her. I actually have friends. And, I always had Daddy…" When tears sting sharply against the corners of her eyes, threatening to spill, she deliberately steps into the icy surf; using the shock of cold to distract herself from her own looming emotions; lest they overcome her. She laughs hoarsely. "But, as it turns out…" her voice drifts away on the breeze.

"A girl needs more than just her dad to be happy?"

Regina nods quietly and rubs her belly again. "Yes, she does. So, when that time comes, try not to take it personally. Don't hold it against her."

Robin tenderly squeezes her hand. "You don't really think I'd do that?"

"Not on purpose, no. I just get the feeling that the two of you are extremely close. Maybe she came back here now because she's finally old enough to do it, but I can't help but think that it isn't just me she's trying to save."

"Me? That's not what she told us, Regina."

Regina nods. "I know, but when you and I are together, and I catch her looking at us, it isn't me she's looking at, Robin."

"What do you think she's worried about, then? She hasn't said anything. She hasn't alluded to anything that might have happened, or will happen… Not to me, I mean."

"Yes, she has. She's not worried about a physical threat to your welfare. Robin, don't you see? If something happens to me, it also happens to you. If I die, she's not the only one who loses me. She didn't come back here with any plan to save you from that arrow. She just seized the opportunity when it presented itself. Ever since then, I've been convinced she's here as much for you as she as for me; maybe even more so. I'm not sure she's consciously aware of what she's doing, where you're concerned… At least not always. Maybe she didn't like growing up without me. Maybe part of her hated it. But she is used to it. I think there's something else that scares her far worse than the prospect of never knowing me. She's growing up, and she can't help it, Robin. She cannot stop time. And, growing up means that things will change between the two of you. You're no longer the only man she turns to for what she needs, for comfort, and as much as she wants that, I think it also terrifies her. She's afraid of leaving you on your own."

Robin frowns, suddenly heartsick at the thought of a burden he hadn't meant to place on his daughter's shoulders. "I hope not. She shouldn't have to trouble herself about such things. I don't want her to feel like that."

Regina nods; feeling more sure of herself with every word. "I don't think she's going anywhere for a few years yet, but I think she can see that day coming. And she doesn't want you to be lonely when she goes. She has grown up watching Eliana look after Hades, and she knows how difficult that has been for her cousin. She doesn't want to be tethered to you the same way that Elia is to Hades. On some level, I think she knows that's not quite healthy but, I don't think she can bear the thought of you wandering around Sherwood Forest on your own without a purpose, something for you to do, and someone to keep you company."

Robin grimaces in irritation. "That's not right! A child shouldn't have to worry about such things."

"You're absolutely right, they shouldn't have to, but sometimes they do it anyway. I did with my dad. Who was going to keep him company after Mother secured a marriage for me to some boring pompous old king? Not her. She was never concerned with Daddy's happiness. I felt like I needed to try and fill the void, step into the breach. I think maybe Norah feels the same way, albeit, for a very different reason. Of course, I failed in my efforts. I failed miserably."

"Hey, who says you failed?"

Regina's laughter is quiet and harsh. "Robin, I sent him off to the underworld for more than 32 years of solitude and isolation."

"True, but you didn't do that alone. He went willingly. He chose not to resist."

"With the hope of my redemption. I don't want our children suffering, I don't want them worrying about you suffering because karma is a score-balancing bitch come to collect her mound of flesh from me."

Robin raises an eyebrow. "I think it's supposed to be ‘pound’ of flesh."

"That wasn't a slip of the tongue. I owe more than a pound, and we both know it."

"How long do you think it will take to do enough good deeds to balance that particular scale?"

"Maybe if I live long enough to be older than the gods…"

"The gods are immortal, mi'lady."

"That's my point."

"Well, if you want the chance, then we're just going to have to find our way around karma. She can't have you. I refuse to give you up."

Regina squeezes his hand and stares out over the sun-dappled water. "Once again, I'm not sure how much power your refusal has over her."

Well, I've already buried one wife. I am not burying a second without a fight, and I'm talking epic proportion; the war to end all wars. Furthermore, I have no intention of marrying a third. So, if you and Norah don't want me spending the last half of my life, a crusty lonely old curmudgeon, then we're just going to have to stop karma in her tracks. Let's go to Thorncrest Hall, meet Madame Eldebury, offer an assurance that we will return after the little firefly is born with a promise to keep Elyria out of Nottingham's clutches and then jump the first portal bound for Storybrooke, where you'll be safest."

Regina nods silently, struggling under the weight of her knowledge of her own predicted demise as it crushes her chest and steals the breath right out of her lungs.

Sensing this, Robin gives her the moment she needs for her brain to reestablish contact with her respiratory system by simply offering a slight change in subject. "On a somewhat lighter note, our first anniversary is just a little over two months away. If you can help it, please don't leave me here to celebrate alone. I will not go by myself."

With her equilibrium reestablished and her lungs re-inflating, Regina raises a curious eyebrow. "You're going somewhere?"

"Weren't you listening? Not by myself."

She lightly nudges his shoulder with hers. "But you have plans to go somewhere … provided I'm along for the ride?"

"I thought it might be fun to leave Storybrooke for a few days. You should be ready to leave Norah with a sitter by then; she'll be old enough."

A new light glimmers in Regina's dark eyes. "Where are we going?"

"I'd like to visit New Orleans' French Quarter."

Regina wrinkles her nose in uncertainty. "Really? Why? Mardi Gras sounds like sheer bedlam to me."

"Mardi Gras is in the spring. I thought we'd go this fall. Sample the local Cajun cuisine; maybe jambalaya or some ètouffèe. Then we can go to Pat O'Brien's, and buy you a few hurricanes…"

Regina cuts him off, laughing. "Just me? Are you planning to get me drunk?"

"Does it matter? You won't be in Storybrooke. No one in Louisiana knows you. They don't know you're a queen or even a mayor. You won't have to worry about your public persona. You can relax; let go of all that rigid propriety. You won't even have magic to worry about."

"Rigid propriety? Oh god! You are! You're planning to take me down to New Orleans and ply me with copious amounts of alcohol!"

Robin flashes his best smile.

Regina tilts her head to one side, thinking it through. "I suppose… If no one there knows me…" She squints. "But riddle me this, Forest Boy… Why? To what end? There is absolutely nothing I own that I won't give you when I'm stone cold sober, and you know it. My time, my heart, my body, my children, my money, my home, all my worldly possessions. What more could you possibly hope for?"

Chuckling softly, Robin rolls his eyes and whispers, "Maybe it's not about getting something from you. Maybe it's about giving you something."

Regina smirks and uses her right foot to send a spray of cold water splashing up to his knees. "Yeah, a hangover!"

Robin lifts his face to the sky and laughs freely. "No, not that. Well, not just that. I promise."

"What else, then?"

Tugging at her hand once again, he pulls her away from the water's edge. "Let's put your shoes back on so we can go have some dinner. I know you're hungry."

Trudging through the sand ½ step behind him, Regina admits, "I'm famished." before she demands, "What else? I want to know."

"Then, you’re just going to have to stick around long enough to find out."

Catching up, she waits for him to drop an affectionate arm around her shoulders just so she can elbow him sharply in the ribs. "You're maddening!"

He shrugs without the slightest trace of an apology and brushes her windswept hair away from her face. "You're breathtaking."


	14. Chapter 14

* * *

**Kingdom of Elyria**

**Present Day**

After nearly another two hours in the carriage, passing one desolate village filled with shabbily dressed people after another, the scenery brightens a bit. Once their wheels leave the ruts of dirt roads behind for the comfort of a private paved road, people seen through the window of the passing carriage appear taller, lest stoop-shouldered and downtrodden. They are dressed with both, care and a certain panache while generally appearing to be in better health. Prior to this point in the journey, Robin has been content to read his book, looking up frequently to survey their surroundings and while he's had very little to say, Regina is wholly aware of the quiet storm brewing in his mind.

She supposes it's only natural. If she were the one going to visit some long-lost birth parent…. Well, it's no wonder his jawline looks more chiseled with each passing mile. When they are less than two miles from their destination, she reaches across the aisle and gently tugs his book from his grasp.

"Hey," He objects playfully. "I was reading that."

"No, you weren't. You haven't turned a page once in the last six minutes."

"You're timing me? Maybe I just read slowly."

Regina scoffs wryly. "You do not! And, if you clinch your jaw any tighter, you're going to be in danger of grinding your teeth. Relax, you're making Norah and your mother nervous."

Robin swivels his gaze, taking in the sight of the other women in the carriage. His mother nods quietly while his daughter shrugs matter-of-factly; leading his wife to add, "See, I told you so."

"I keep seeing mile after mile of open grassland."

Regina nods. When he says nothing immediately thereafter, she prods gently, "What's on your mind, Robin?"

"This is a private road, is it not?"

"Yes, this is the Thorncrest estate."

"For how long now? As long as we've been on this road?"

"Not quite, but nearly."

"How far does this carriage travel in an hour… 15 to 20 miles, right?"

Regina nods. "In good weather, with little traffic. Yes, that's probably about right."

"So, this road is at least 40 miles long."

Regina squints speculatively, but she's willing to let him talk his way through whatever is on his mind. "I'm not quite sure what track your thoughts are taking just yet. Offer up another piece of the puzzle."

"Forty miles; how many acres is that?

"It won't convert exactly. Miles traveled are usually not squared; acres are. However, in a straight line, one mile may translate into approximately 67 acres."

Robin is quiet for a moment as he rounds off numbers in his head. "That's more than 2500 acres."

Regina nods. "It's a lot nearer to 2700."

"With this much open grassland, I would expect to see livestock of some sort, and lots of it. Or crops. I've hardly seen any of either."

"Maybe they only maintain what is needed for the household."

"Maybe, but according to what you've told me, and according to what I've read…" he points to the book she's still holding. "It's a marquis’s job to protect the outlying borders of his kingdom from invasion. That is his purpose, correct?"

"Yes, that's right. Each branch of the royal hierarchy serves the one above it. Each has an assigned task or function to perform."

"No matter how great his army, I fail to see how any marquis is going to protect a kingdom of this size at every border without relying upon the word of the people… At least to some degree."

"You're not wrong. Cooperation and collaboration with the people are an essential element for success in carrying out the duties of a marquis."

"So why are most of the people we passed in the outlying villages in such noticeably bad shape? Shouldn't the reigning marquis have a vested interest in their prosperity, or at the very least, their welfare? They're sitting here with mile after mile of fertile land. Why not use some of it to the betterment of the kingdom? Why not grow grains, fruits, and vegetables, or raise livestock, or both?"

Finally understanding the reason for the firm set of his jaw, and the flint in his blue eyes which have gone as hard and cool as steel, Regina nods and reaches across the aisle once more, taking his hand in hers. "I'm quite certain the household has more than enough staff to accomplish that if it's something you want to look at doing in the future."

He nods but before he can ask his next question the carriage pulls to a stop. Momentarily confused by this until he looks out the window to behold the grand visage of stone and mortar that is Thorncrest Hall, he hesitates for three seconds longer; squinting into the setting sun before he rises from his seat, pushes the carriage door open and steps out into the stone courtyard. Even as he helps his women from the carriage he stares; questions, thoughts, and suppositions tumbling around together in his mind like mismatched socks in a dryer. While he tries in vain to organize them, the rest of the group dismounts and, as if out of thin air, a stable hand appears to see to their horses closely followed by a butler come to escort them inside.

With her hand in Beatrice's, Norah eyes the dark brooding house with equal parts uncertainty and wonder. "It's like they took it straight out of Jane Eyre." She whispers breathlessly to her grandmother. "This is exactly how I pictured it when I read the novel. Except that one was called Thornfield Hall. Any second now I half expect to see Pilot come bounding down the front walk barking at us."

"Pilot?"

Norah grimaces, but laughs at the same time as Beatrice studies her face closely.

"Mr. Rochester's scruffy old dog. Oh…" She frowns but shrugs dismissively. "I guess you haven't read it."

Shaking her head, Beatrice chuckles softly. "No, I'm afraid I haven't, but I can't tell by your expression whether you liked the book or hated it."

Norah shrugs again. "Both."

Beatrice raises a curious eyebrow. "How does one manage that?"

"It's a book full of romance, drama, and intrigue."

"Ah, a real page-turner. So then, what didn't you like about it?"

"Jane was small and quiet; sort of mousy, you know? But she wasn't stupid or faint-hearted. Mr. Rochester should've just told her from the very beginning that he was married to the demented wingnut he kept hidden in the attic. Jane was tougher than she looked, she could've handled it. He shouldn't have lied to her."

Beatrice nods her understanding and squeezes the girl's shoulders as she whispers conspiratorially, "But if he hadn't lied to her, I'm guessing it would've been a very short story; and not nearly as much fun to read."

Norah's eyes widen dramatically. "I hadn't thought of that."

Two steps ahead of them, her father simply scowls. Tilting his head slightly to the right, he whispers his own thoughts to no one but his wife. "This is not a house. This is a museum!"

"You're half right," Regina whispers back. "It's not uncommon for grand estate houses such as this one to have certain areas that are open to the public for viewing. Those areas usually exhibit decorative tapestries, paintings, sculptures, or other works of art typically commissioned by notable artists."

Unimpressed, Robin queries, "How many people live here?"

"Just in the house, or on the estate?"

Robin shrugs. "Both, I guess."

"In the house; the Marquis, his wife, and their son - but the last time I was here, their son, Roderick sort of came and went. He didn't keep his visits to any predictable schedule."

"That's it? Just the three of them?"

"I'm sure there's a handful of trusted staff as well; the head of housekeeping, the butler, his steward or valet - possibly both if he maintains those as two separate positions - her lady's maid, a secretary, a few of the servants, you get the idea. Then there will be separate quarters for the rest of those who maintain the house, the grounds, and the stables. Beyond that, an estate this size can probably support as many as 500 inhabitants, in their own separate dwellings, of course, but I doubt there are that many. In exchange for using the land where their homes are located, they are required to work; provide some type of support to the estate. The workday isn't done yet. If the estate were sufficiently populated, we would have seen more of them out, going about their business."

The front doors swing open wide, a line of four staff members in crisp black and white livery stand just beyond each door with a ninth man of uncommon height beckoning in welcome from the center of the grand entryway. Before he speaks, his gaze lands on Beatrice and then flicks to Robin as something slides into place in his mind.

A full three inches taller than Robin, his shoulders are broad, his chest is barrel-shaped, and his baritone voice booms out at them from somewhere in its chasm-like depths "Mr. Locksley, I presume."

"Yes, sir."

"If you and your party will please follow me, sir. The marchioness expected you somewhat sooner than today."

"We have arrived as quickly as possible."

"Yes, of course, sir. I'm to take you as far as the north parlor on the second floor if that will meet with your approval."

With no known reason for an objection, Robin nods politely. "Lead the way."

While he follows their escort, Robin takes a good look around. While the outside of the house and grounds appear a bit time-worn and neglected, the inside is nothing less than grandiose in its splendor; not at all to his liking. He can tolerate the bones of the place well enough, the vaulted ceilings, the sweeping expanse of marble floors, the empire moldings, and ornate fixtures; but in his humble opinion, the place is sorely in need of a new decorator.

While led from one vast room to the next on their way to a grand staircase he realizes that the draperies, the walls, the furnishings – they are all done in heavy fabrics in deep, bold, almost startling colors. Everywhere he looks, his eyes find red, gold, or purple. The walls are nearly covered, vaulted ceiling to chair rail, with oil portraits of dour-faced people in corsets and waistcoats who seem physiologically incapable of cracking a smile; their faces frozen in stark disapproval as they peer down at him in his well-used traveling cloak and boots from their lofty heights.

Chandeliers, sterling silver serving trays, gilded portrait frames and the ornate mirrors are all things he would expect to find in his own home. Yet, this place is not home. This place makes him itch, and the longer he's here, the more disturbing he finds the absence of light. He had expected the place not to have electricity and keeping an overabundance of candles about on tall brass candelabrum is one thing, but would it kill them to open the draperies. Maybe let in some natural light or kindle a fire in one of the various hearths. So far, he hasn't found a single room on the ground floor that doesn't look and feel unlived in; shrouded in darkness. This should be the part of the house meant to impress curious members of the public. Yet, it looks and smells vacant, and he has no trouble imagining that the only household occupants who frequent this floor of the house are the staff.

Up the winding switchback staircase with its splendid but unappreciated rug, and he wishes he had taken more care to wipe his feet before entering the house. Regina complains when he or the boys bring dirt in on the carpets at home. He glances at her. With her head held high, shoulders back, spine straight, and even though she has very recently begun to worry that she may have reached the point in pregnancy where she has begun to waddle ever so slightly, she maintains her grace. She looks like she belongs in a place like this, although he can tell by the deliberately vacant expression on her face that there's a great deal she's concealing. She doesn't like the décor any more than he does. They haven't seen a single cushion out of place, not one book left open on an end table, not one saucer to hold a forgotten cup of tea or a half-eaten sandwich. He can't picture Henry's storybook laying in the seat of one of the overstuffed chairs. He can't hear the echoes of Roland's feet tramping across the floor as he runs room to room. Robin doubts that any child has ever played here and trying to imagine himself here as a child makes his chest constrict painfully.

As they reach the second-floor landing and step into the corridor on the left, he becomes aware of the whisperings of the staff around them, but before he can question this, or even figure out what they're saying, he hears a loud incoherent voice coming from behind a closed door somewhere near the end of the corridor to the right. Although he is absolutely certain that Regina heard the voice as well, when no one else in the group acknowledges it, he chooses to keep silent.

It strikes Robin as odder still that not once has he had to open a door. He doesn't know who decided that born royalty should never be troubled with the mundane task of opening a door for themselves, but he finds the practice utterly absurd and wants no part of it. Why must there always be someone three feet in front of him, as well as someone three feet behind him? Every door opens before he arrives, and every door closes without even the need to turn around, and each time one closes in his wake he experiences the bizarre sensation that he is walking deeper and deeper into the bowels of some opulent prison. Heavy solid wood doors don't shut with the same rolling clatter of cell doors, but the effect is no less jarring to the soul.

"Here we are." Their baritone guide declares. "The north parlor."

As Robin and his family pass through yet another open door into another grossly over-decorated room, a cat as black as turpentine streaks through a door left ajar at the end of the corridor, strides proudly into the parlor, and hisses menacingly, almost as if she's spitting obscenities at the household staff who then, in turn, give the regal creature a very wide berth.

When one of their escorts attempts to shoo the feline from the room, she arches her back and bares her fangs, hissing again before she turns haughtily and leaps to the top shelf of an impressively tall bookcase with effortless grace. She eyes the man in his spotless livery and his white gloves with unmistakable disdain and self-proclaimed superiority for an instant before she grows bored with him, licks her own paw, and begins to wash her face.

Glancing to his right, Robin sees what anyone else would miss; the nearly invisible trace of a smile that lifts the corners of Regina's mouth almost imperceptibly.

One of the uniformed men says to another in resigned disgust. "I'll fetch a broom." Turning to Robin, the older of the two says. "Just leave her be. She's a nasty inhospitable creature. We'll have her out of here before she causes you any trouble."

With no small effort, Robin refrains from rolling his eyes and offers only a slight nod in response. Only when the four of them are left alone in the parlor to wait to be received by their hostess does he stride slowly but confidently over to stand before the bookcase peering up at the majestic animal whose perch is easily more than six feet over his head.

"It's alright, sweetheart. They're gone. You can come down now if you want to. I won't let anybody hit you with a broom, I promise." He extends an arm, reaching up as high as he can in her direction.

Tilting her head to one side as if softly spoken words of kindness are a rarity in this place, the cat leans over the edge of her lofty perch and sniffs the air above his outstretched fingertips while she eyes him with cool reserve. When she chooses to remain as she is, Robin shrugs genially. "Suit yourself, mi'lady."

Leaving her where she is, he withdraws and takes the seat to Regina's right on a sofa upholstered in exquisite silk the color of sweet cream butter. His daughter and mother have taken seats on a second sofa facing them, with an ornately carved oval-shaped mahogany coffee table between them.

Quietly appraising their surroundings, Norah is the first to speak; although she does so quietly; like a library patron not wishing to incur the wrath of an overly stern-faced librarian. "This is not what I expected. The outside is… Well, it's a little weather-beaten and not quite neglected. I thought the inside might be too."

Beatrice nods slightly. "Evidently, the marchioness and her husband don't spend a great deal of their leisure time out-of-doors, but they do enjoy their creature comforts. The inside is just as polished as I remember it, and the not quite neglected look to the exterior somehow makes the place even more foreboding than it used to be."

Regina replies indifferently, "The stone fountain in the front garden was deteriorating the last time I was here more than 30 years ago. It's a wonder the thing hasn't crumbled into the dust. Obviously, someone is doing at least a minimal amount of upkeep on the estate grounds."

"When I visited a few days ago, the marchioness was taken to her bed. I can't say for certain that she is bedridden, but it certainly appeared that way. I saw no sign of the Marquis, but rumor has it, he may no longer be of sound mind. That's if he's even still alive."

Regina squints almost imperceptibly, thinking it through. "That rumor was born more than three decades ago as well. However, whether he's of sound mind or not, I'm assuming he hasn't died. I, personally, can think of no reason to safeguard or sequester news of his death. Her title is not dependent on her marriage. That being said, this realm is very antiquated in its thinking. I'll also wager that there will be those who will publicly deem her unfit to hold the title if she does become a widow."

Beatrice nods. "It's complete rubbish, of course. There are just as many men who are not fit to rule - men who would lay entire kingdoms to rest without the steadfast council of their common wives - as there are women who are more than fit to rule without the less-than-informed council of an entitled husband."

"True enough."

"Female rulers are sole survivors baptized by fire."

Regina's gaze flicks to Robin in acknowledgment before she smirks. "I'm not feeling much like a lone survivor these days, but the baptism by fire is most certainly true. Though, to be fair, the person I fought the hardest to get to where I am, was not male. Nor could she legitimately claim ignorance of my capability."

Beatrice queries, "Why do we women do that to each other? Aren't we supposed to be the fairer, more empathetic sex?"

Regina scoffs. "That's what I've heard. Though, I frequently doubt the validity of that statement. I…" She pauses, fascinated when the cat yowls softly from her perch on high, as if making her own thoughts on the subject known. Then, with no further warning, she jumps down lithely, glides across the room with her head held high, where she picks up a small shiny silver object concealed in the fringe of an elegant area rug before approaching the sofa and leaping up with poise to sit on the armrest nearest Robin. The sleek feline eyes him intently and purrs deeply in her throat.

"What have you got there?" Robin holds out his hand and waits until the cat chooses to release the trinket clenched in her teeth. Using his thumb to roll the small object around in his hand, he surveys a sterling silver thimble etched with a minuscule rendering of what he assumes is the Eldebury family crest. Leaving his seat momentarily, he walks over and kneels to turn up the edge of the rug in the same spot she retrieved the thimble from.

Regina, Norah, and Beatrice all watch him eye the cat briefly with speculation before he flashes his best smile and holds up a small copper-colored piece of decorative wrapping paper and a sparkling ruby red button. "She's a thief!" He announces with glee. "She likes bright shiny things, and this is one of her hiding places."

The black cat watches him return her treasures to where they belong and drop the rug back into place.

Returning to his seat, Robin holds out his hand, offering her thimble back to her. She takes it, clinching it in her teeth once more, but the moment he moves his hand away, she reaches out with her delicate black foot and gently paws at his arm.

Regina chuckles softly when the cat drops the small treasure into his outstretched palm again. "Looks like she wants you to have it."

Setting the thimble on the arm of the sofa, Robin reaches out tentatively and offers to stroke the cat's velvety soft head.

Instead of hissing, fleeing, or lashing out with her razor-sharp claws, the feline purrs rapturously and arches into his touch; seeking greater contact. When he obliges, she purrs rhythmically and slinks from the arm of the sofa into his lap where she circles twice before curling herself into a tight warm little coil.

Talking as much to him as Norah and Beatrice, Regina raises an eyebrow. "I think he's been claimed."

No sooner than the words out of her mouth, two of the household staff return; brooms in hand and a stepladder between the two of them. Aghast, they stare at Robin in horror.

"Sir, put the animal down!"

The cat studies Robin's face as he shakes his head. "I'm not going to do that. I'm going to ask you to leave her alone. She's not causing a problem."

"Mr. Locksley, that cat will scratch your eyes out just as soon as look at you. She's evil."

Robin glances down at the sleek feline in his lap who has stirred only enough to lift her head and glare at the two manservants with wary curiosity. Stroking her fur soothingly, the retired thief smirks, unconsciously mimicking one of his wife's common facial expressions. "She's evil? This cat? The one curled up in my lap? Oh yes, she's a true monster! Tell me; has it ever occurred to you that you simply don't understand her? Maybe she just doesn't like you? Maybe she has a reason not to. Ever thought about that? Maybe it's being chased around with broomsticks that she finds so objectionable."

"Sir, there's no need to become upset. She's just a cat."

Robin glowers. "Yes, she is just a cat; and I don't care for people who mistreat animals. I will thank you to leave her un-accosted in my presence. Has the marchioness been informed of our arrival?"

"Yes sir, Mr. Locksley. You'll be escorted to her private rooms as soon as she is ready to receive you."

"Thank you, we'll wait here."

The cat watches the men cross the room and then turns her piercing green eyes to Robin, who strokes her head once more.

"See, I told you. You're safe."

The cat issues her soft yowl as the door closes behind the servants. They step away, but not before one is heard whispering to the other, "And, just who does he think he is; coming in here dressed like a ruffian and carrying a bow and arrow? Is he expecting to be attacked?"

The older of the two men takes the younger by the elbow and leads him a safe distance away from the room before hissing, "I have no clue who he is, but I do know who she is, and since he is, quite obviously, with her, you'll do well to hold your tongue."

"Which of the three shes are you referring to?"

The older man shakes his head in dismay. "My lord, but you are wet behind the ears, aren't you?"

* * *

It's a full 45 minutes before they return to the north parlor to find their visitors in the midst of a serious yet, animated conversation.

"What is taking so long? She did ask you to bring me here?"

Beatrice nods. "Yes, of course."

"She's nervous," Regina interjects quietly. "She didn't know exactly when you would be arriving, otherwise I'm sure she would have been prepared to see you immediately."

"But she's nervous?" Robin raises an eyebrow.

"Well, of course. Put yourself in her shoes."

Robin squints. "I am entirely sure that I don't know how to do that."

"When she sent you away from this place, you were a newborn baby. Now you're a grown man with children of his own; but the only memory she has of you, you were an infant not yet capable of judgment. That's not the case anymore. She's nervous. Probably even scared. I'm sure she wants to make the best impression possible."

"It's a bit late for that."

Regina pivots her head from one side to the other.

"What?"

She shakes her head.

"No, tell me."

She shrugs. "You have every right to your feelings."

"But."

"Try not to close yourself off from her completely. She did give you to a mother who loves you beyond measure."

Robin opens his mouth and then snaps it shut again, passing a look between his wife and mother before he does speak. "Which is something you understand on a level I'm not capable of, and something for which there aren't enough words to express my gratitude. But, still, she summons me here and then keeps me waiting?"

Regina smiles and offers patiently, "I've told you; she wants to make the best impression possible. I would if I were in her shoes. She's probably putting on her face."

"First, you could never be in her shoes, Regina. Second, it never takes you this long to – how did you say it - put on your face. What? Is she having a new one surgically transplanted?"

"Honey, not everyone can use magic. And I could have. If I thought that being with me would somehow endanger my child…"

Robin cuts her off with the emphatic shake of his head. "Regina, I'm sure there were times when being with you did endanger Henry. You didn't bail on him because his existence was inconvenient for you or your personal aspirations. You didn't ship him off to live elsewhere. You put in the hard work. You made the effort, took the time - you changed."

Regina nods. "I did, and I still am, and it is still hard work. You know I'm not saying that Henry isn't worth it. What I am saying is that maybe not everybody is capable of that. You told me once that Cecelia Eldebury did the best thing she could have possibly done for you. When you go in there today, when you see her, try not to forget that. Her actions have shaped you, Robin…" Regina points to Beatrice. "Nearly as much as hers have. For better or worse, be proud of who you are." In a quiet voice barely above a whisper, she adds, "I certainly am." As she reaches for and gives his hand an affectionate squeeze.

In response to her touch, the cat in his lap lifts her head. In an instant, her ears turn back and flatten against her head as she bares her fangs and hisses with blatant jealousy.

In reply, Regina laughs coldly. "Oh, really? Listen up, Your Royal Highness, he's mine. He was long before you laid your pretty green eyes on him, and I will touch him whenever I damn well please. I am not afraid of you."

"Yeeeeow!" The feline whines loudly in further protest.

Without another word, Regina simply locks eyes with the animal and stares until the cat finally gives up, rises on all fours, turns her back on the queen, and settles back down in her new friend's lap; facing the opposite direction.

Norah chuckles. "Uh oh! It doesn't look like either one of them is going to relinquish her claim. Daddy, you might have a problem!"

Robin shakes his head confidently. "It's not a problem. I've got enough room in my life for another royal female."

Clearing their throats, the household servants gently intrude upon the conversation. "Mr. Locksley, if you will accompany us, her ladyship will see you now."

Rising to his feet, Robin gently relocates the cat in his lap to the sofa cushions as he reaches for his wife's hand. When the willful cat follows him to the door, the servant with a baritone voice says firmly, "The animal will have to stay here. She upsets Her Ladyship's canine companions. Your visit will go much more smoothly without her in attendance.

Rising from her own seat, and approaching cautiously, Norah coos softly as she lifts the cat into her own arms. "It's okay, Sassy. You can stay with me. Daddy will come back for us when he is done."

The feline struggles to be free momentarily until Robin strokes her head. "It's okay. Don't scratch my girl. I'll be back." When the cat settles calmly in Norah's arms, Robin offers, "Don't force her to stay with you. If she wants to roam, let her."

Norah nods and rubs the cat's ears and, as Robin steps over the threshold, he looks back, mildly surprised when Regina allows her hand to slip from his.

"Aren't you coming with me?"

She shakes her head. "You two are going to need a few minutes alone. I'll be here waiting with the girls."

When he hesitates momentarily, she releases the clasp of his cloak, drapes it over her own arm, and affectionately removes a piece of lint from the shoulder of his best leather vest before she gently shoves him on his way.

When she turns back into the room, Regina finds Beatrice nodding approvingly. "He's handling this a great deal better than I thought he would."

Regina offers her own nod as she reclaims her seat on the sofa facing Beatrice. "I didn't have the privilege of knowing him when he was a younger man, but I suspect he's done quite a bit of growing up since the last time you saw him." She touches her own swollen belly reflexively. "That – and I suspect that, as important as this meeting is, he has even more important things weighing on his mind; keeping him somewhat anchored down."

"He really doesn't want to be here at all; does he?"

"Not yet, but he will. Just give him time."

"What makes you so certain he'll change his mind?"

"Based on what little I remember of her, his opinion of the marchioness may not improve with time or familiarity, but when he comes to understand that his position here will afford him the opportunity to do some real good, he'll want it. Maybe not all the trappings that go with it, but he won't pass up the opportunity to benefit those less fortunate."

Beatrice smiles patiently. "You have a great deal of faith in my son's moral compass."

Regina sighs and then shrugs dismissively. "With good reason. My own is still somewhat defective at times. Robin's has never led me astray."

* * *

Robin regrettably finds himself, once again, being led to an unknown location. He follows his young escorts to wherever they are taking him without really noticing his surroundings. Down one long overly decorated corridor, a left turn, and then another long corridor full of closed doors that could lead to anywhere; and utterly indistinguishable from any of the others that he's seen since his arrival. Or – he muses silently - maybe he just doesn't care to notice the differences.

For one wild moment, he genuinely considers making a break for it. It would be easy enough to do. He could simply rip the nearest floor length tapestry from its hangings, anchor it to the nearest banister, and Geronimo!

Smiling, for no one's benefit but his own, he peers over the nearest railing. The closest tapestry isn't quite long enough. At the end of its fringe, he'd still be facing a 20-foot drop. He might walk away with a severe limp, but it wouldn't kill him. His wife and mother on the other hand… They would tag team each other and take turns wailing on him… Not good! He cringes as he muses inwardly. Better to stay his present course. He sighs in resignation as one of his escorts knocks lightly upon a door left standing ajar.

Robin's lead escort pokes his head in the door in answer to words that he cannot make out coming from a muffled frail voice. Then, the servant is waving him in as if he were a subject here on official business, rather than a long-lost child returning to an unwanted home.

Stepping over the threshold into an overly warm room he instantly realizes that, unlike his wife, its occupant was either never educated on the proper way to apply perfume, or she had simply paid no mind to the lesson. To avoid choking on the heavily sweet-scented air, he concentrates on breathing through his mouth rather than his nose and wishes he were home in Storybrooke. After a long day of being away from home, Robin always treasures that first intake of breath upon stepping into their bedroom and catching the faint lingering trace of his wife's personal fragrance. Here, he just prays he won't be ill.

The door behind him closes and he suddenly wishes his annoying escorts would return. The room is overly pink. Not just pink, but a shade of pink preferred by avid bubble gum chewers. Even the wallpaper boasts little pink rosebuds. Pale cream-colored lace is draped over nearly everything standing still including the canopy of the gigantic four-poster bed that is the focal point of the room. His mind works silently; taking stock of the room even as he gets his first glimpse of Cecelia Eldebury's frail sunken body tucked beneath luxurious silk bed linens that are pulled discreetly to her chest; her only visible clothing, a stark white dressing gown with a puritanically high lace collar that looks as if it might fit tightly enough to choke the life out of her. He studies her pale withered face searching hopelessly for the right words, or at the very least searching for even a trace of something recognizable. Her cheeks, no doubt, once plump with youth and vitality are now sallow and deflated despite the prominent and flattering bone structure that still lies beneath. Her complexion is bluish with spidery capillaries that lie just below the surface of aged skin that tears and bruises hideously with the slightest touch. The backs of her hands are liver-spotted and gnarled by inflamed joints that have been ravaged by time and arthritis. Even her green eyes, so completely different from his, both in shape and color, have gone milky with cataracts.

Absolutely nothing he sees is familiar. He supposes it was ludicrous to think that anything would be. He has absolutely no memory of the woman before him, but Robin searches nonetheless, until the search begins to make him itch. So, he simply waits, hoping that the first word spoken will come from her thin-lipped mouth but, regrettably, she seems to be making a similar appraisal of him; perhaps searching for a trace of something, anything, to relate to the newborn in her memory.

While he waits the interminable six seconds before she speaks, he unintentionally distracts himself with the comfort of an old familiar routine. He cases the joint.

Doing nothing that would give his private thoughts away, without so much as turning his head, he mentally reviews everything he saw upon first stepping into the room. At first glance he had counted two mirrors - no make that three, four jewelry boxes, two high boy dressers along with two armoires, which, if he were to open them, he's absolutely certain he would find them stuffed nearly to the point of spilling with ridiculously priced, high-fashion clothing. No doubt, in the fashion department, she might rival Regina, but the possible similarities in their clothing expenditures aside, this woman clearly lacks Regina's sophistication. She may be an octogenarian but her room and the possessions on display indicate the mental and emotional maturity of an overly indulged, self-obsessed adolescent.

Robin slams the door shut on his private thoughts when a bubble of silent panic rises in his throat because he suddenly realizes that she has spoken, and he has no clue what she said. Thus, leaving an urgent silence born of expectation hanging in the air between them.

The only word he heard distinctly was "Edmund."

"Pardon me?" He whispers hoarsely, his throat suddenly as dry as the Sahara.

She offers him a feeble melancholy smile. "I said, you're very nearly the spitting image of Edmund."

Robin clears his throat, his voice returning to normal. "Edmund who?"

She squints at him as if he's asked something that worries her. "Why, Edmund of Locksley, of course. Your father. She lifts one shoulder in a weakened shrug and coughs discreetly around the words, "Except for the Brazelton forehead. That, I'm afraid you got from me. If not for that, you could have quite easily been mistaken for him 40 years ago."

Robin's eyes widen noticeably. He hadn't come here with the intent of learning anything about his father. He hadn't even realized he was interested in the possibility until he'd heard the unknown man's name spoken aloud. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, an unexpected minuscule thrill of anticipation making it hard for him to stand perfectly still, as he would like to do. "He looked like me?"

"No, it's you who looks like him; impressively so. For a ½ second, when you stepped over the threshold, I thought time and my eyes were conspiring to play a hoax on me."

Even as he says the words, Robin realizes it's beyond pointless to apologize for something that he has absolutely no control over. "I'm sorry if it distresses you."

She shakes her head and wheezes feebly around the words, "Not in the least."

"Is he still living?"

"I'm sorry to say, I don't know. Though, I like to think he is. He was a few years younger than me. So, it is possible."

"Was he a thief?"

The old woman before him scowls in equal parts shock and confusion. "Good heavens, no! What on earth would lead you to ask such an absurd question?" She asks, clutching her lace handkerchief to her chest as if he's just accused her of committing a perverse sexual act with vermin.

"Just curious." Robin clears his throat but offers no apology.

"What a peculiar thing to be curious about!" She coughs disapprovingly, and Robin is absolutely certain it has nothing to do with clearing a compromised airway.

"You wouldn't think it so peculiar if you were me."

"Why is that? Who are you? Tell me about yourself."

He forces himself not to physically respond to her tone, which is unmistakably entitled and filled with more of a demand than maternal curiosity, as if she has every right to his personal information.

"My name is Robin. I'm a retired thief and the proprietor of a tavern called The Lucky Feather. I used to live in Sherwood Forest. Now, I live in a different realm in a magical place called Storybrooke. I gave up robbery after the death of my first wife, Marian. I thought eventually we would leave Sherwood Forest. I thought we would make a home for ourselves and grow old together. However, she died unexpectedly. I didn't even get to say goodbye to her. We have a son. He is called Roland. He's almost six, and he reminds me more of his mother with each new day. I remarried last fall. My wife is the mayor of Storybrooke. She has a teenage son, and she and I are expecting our first child together; a little girl."

Cecelia Eldebury pinches her mouth into a tight frown; her thin lips nearly receding from view in their entirety. "Well, I suppose bartender is better than thief and, despite a rather inauspicious start, it's clear you place a very strong value on family. Tell me, what is a mayor?

"In Storybrooke, and in various other places like it, our leaders are not preordained or anointed as monarchs are. They are elected to their posts. It is a mayor's job to oversee and maintain the welfare of the town they live in, much as it is your job to maintain the security and welfare of the borders of this kingdom."

"I see. Elected by whom?" The old woman raises a curious eyebrow as she inhales and wheezes with the effort.

"By the people."

"What people?"

Robin makes a conscious effort not to squint. "The residents."

"You don't mean to tell me that, in this Storybrooke, lowly common subjects are actually entrusted with the means to decide who governs them?"

Robin nods. "That's right, and they aren't subjects; they are citizens. They are afforded not only the means to make such decisions for themselves but also the legal right to do it."

Cecelia blinks, perhaps marginally curious, but also undeniably taken aback as she speaks his name for the very first time. "Robin, I think it's time you introduced your wife."

Without immediately stepping away, Robin suddenly smiles curiously.

"Well, don't just stand there, boy. I require a word with your wife. After that, with the woman who raised you. Hornsworth tells me they are both here with you. "

The absurdly curious smile that still graces his face begins to annoy her more deeply, with each passing second, but before she can issue another order, Robin says calmly, quietly, "As you wish." Turns on his heel, and strides from the room without another moment's hesitation.

* * *

Norah pets the cat until the feline suddenly rises on all fours, abandons her lap, and strides from the room with obvious deliberation. Half-wounded, half-amused by the impromptu act of desertion, Robin and Regina's teenage daughter calls after the cat, "Right then, nice knowing you." Turning to her mother and paternal grandmother, she shrugs. I suppose she's had enough adoration for the moment; fickle creature."

Regina smiles coolly. "Cats are like that, honey - engineers of their own destiny. They are always in charge of everything in their immediate vicinity. I suspect that's why they don't get along well with me. We're too similar. If you require an animal who will remain faithfully at your side regardless of its own desires, it's a well-trained dog you want; not a cat."

"She stayed with Daddy."

"Your father understands her. He's content to let her be the one in charge. That, and Robin has a certain magnetism about him. Adults, children, babies, even animals are comfortable in his pres…"

"Yeoooow!" The cat hisses ominously amid an inglorious cacophony of barking that echoes down the long corridor beyond the room.

Rushing to the door, Norah pokes her head out, spotting four of the ugliest shar-pei dogs she's ever had the misfortune to encounter. To make matters worse, their ridiculously pink painted toenails and the bows in their ears do nothing, in her opinion, to improve their appearance. She claps her hands together loudly and reprimands staunchly, "Hey, no! Bad dogs! You leave her alone! Go on! Clear off, you bloody mongrels!" She steps out into the hallway as another voice joins the commotion.

"Away with you, you vile creature!" roars the familiar baritone voice of the middle-aged manservant.

"Hey!" Norah objects angrily. "Don't do that! You leave that cat alone! There are four of them, there's only one of her. She's only defending herself… Mom!"

Norah turns back the way she came, nearly colliding with Regina who pushes her gently but quickly out of the path of danger before hurling a small but effective fireball perilously close to the tall servant's head.

He narrowly sidesteps the fiery orb and then glares horrorstruck at the trio of women approaching from the opposite end of the hall; his vision zeroing in on Regina as he touches his rapidly blistering left ear with hesitant fingers. "Bloody hell, woman! You almost roasted my ear!"

Without the slightest hesitation, Regina growls darkly, "You kick that animal again, and I'll save you the trouble of saying almost!"

He bows contemptuously and then hisses with unmistakable disdain as he reaches out and seizes Norah by the arm when she attempts to make her way past him on her way to the frightened cat. "Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, but if this noisy little upstart wasn't causing such a riot…"

When Norah winces in response to his vice-like grip on her forearm but purses her lips tightly together, refusing to make even the slightest of sounds, Regina's dark eyes come alive with fury and she snarls murderously. "You will unhand my daughter this instant, or not only will you be missing both of your roasted ears, I will have you publicly flogged every day for a fortnight!"

The terrified manservant instantly releases Norah's arm as though he has been bitten by the viper of Agrabah. Aghast, he queries in a whisper, "Your daughter, Majesty?"

Norah hurriedly scoops up the frightened cat and sidesteps her assailant without daring to rub her bruised forearm as Regina prowls slowly on approach like a mother lioness stalking her hungry cub's dinner. When she's toe-to-toe with him, she seizes his throat in her own vice-like grip, tilts her head back, glares up at him through narrowed eyes, and whispers, "That's right! My daughter, you wretched fool! And if you ever put your filthy meat hooks on her again, if you ever so much as sneeze in her direction, I will personally see to it that you never see daylight again! Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Your Majesty!" He croaks weakly through his restricted airway.

Regina releases him with a sneer and a shove. "Get out of my sight and take these ridiculous little pedigreed mutts with you!"

He stumbles, regains his footing, and then bends at the waist scooping up two of the dogs around their middles. The other two follow nervously at his heels as he scurries away: not daring to glance back over his shoulder.

No sooner than the beleaguered fellow disappears, Robin steps into view around a corner in the hallway. His gaze flicks passed his daughter, and his mother, both of whom wear startled expressions, before he raises an eyebrow and offers his wife a knowing smile. "Is there trouble afoot, mi'lady?"

Regina smirks. "Nothing that isn't completely within my control."

His gaze flicks to Norah and his mother once more. "if you two are alright…" He waits for them each to nod. "I need to borrow Regina."

Norah chuckles softly, "We're fine, Daddy. I can't say the same for Her Ladyship's steward. He probably soiled himself." When Robin squints in silent inquiry, she waves her own comment aside. "It's not important right now. We'll tell you later." She gestures between herself and Beatrice. "Should we come too?"

Robin thinks it over momentarily and then shakes his head. "She asked to meet your mother first, and then Trix. Let's do it one at a time; not bombard her all at once, okay?"

Norah shrugs nonchalantly and links her arm with her grandmother's. "Fine by me. We'll wait until we're invited."

Robin places an arm around Regina's waist even as he nods. Steering her in the opposite direction as his daughter and mother return to the north parlor, he calls quietly over his shoulder. "Hopefully we won't be too long." He waits until they turn the corner in the corridor to turn his full attention to his wife. "When I stepped around the corner…", he says quietly for her ears only, "you looked angry enough to boil somebody in oil."

For a moment, Regina's jaw works silently in barely contained anger. "The big broad-shouldered one, the one with the voice…"

Robin nods. "I'm pretty sure his name is Hornsworth."

Regina glowers: her whispered words laced with acid. "I don't give a damn what his name is! He likes to kick defenseless animals, and Robin I'm telling you right now, if that behemoth puts his hands on our daughter again, I will put him in the ground! I will put him down a hole so deep, so dark, that even Hades won't be able to find him!"

Robin scowls. "He hurt Norah?"

"Nothing too serious. I handled it. He decided to manhandle her because she was concerned about the cat. Apparently, dogs are favored around here. But I did fire a warning shot. I know our position here is going to require a little finesse; a little grace under pressure, and that's fine. I can do that. I can do whatever you need me to do as long as he keeps his hands to himself. But, if he touches our daughter again, to hell with diplomacy, I will cremate him."

Robin offers her a look of wonder and chuckles quietly. "Don't tell me you're expecting an objection."

Regina inhales deeply and counts to five as Robin leads her back the way he came. When she's calmer, she asks, "So, how did it go? Doesn't seem like you visited for very long."

Robin shrugs. "I'm not sure."

Regina scoffs wryly and raises an eyebrow in curiosity. "You're not sure? You must have some idea."

He shrugs again. "I don't think she's terribly impressed with me. She certainly wasn't gushing with maternal warmth, but she didn't have me tossed out on my bum either. "

Regina shrugs reflexively. "Well, that's a start."

"She mentioned my father. He might still be alive."

"Does he know about you?"

"Don't know." Robin shrugs again. Didn't occur to me to ask her that."

"Well, what did you ask her?"

Robin grins uneasily as he runs his fingers through his hair. "Eh, I asked her if my father was a thief."

Regina halts their progress down the corridor and turns to face him; her dark eyes going wide. With colossal effort, she manages not to laugh out loud, but she can't quite keep one hand from rising, of its own volition, to cover her mouth. "Robin, you did not ask the Marchioness of Elyria if she conceived an illegitimate child with…." Her voice trails away before she corrects herself; her eyes laughing at him. "Yes, you did… And that's one of the many things I love about you." Regina pauses, shaking her head. "And what have you told her about yourself?"

"The truth."

This time Regina does laugh. "Oh dear! So, we've got some damage control to do?"

As she knows he will, Robin shrugs again as he taps gently on the door of the room he left only moments before.

* * *

He does not step over the threshold until he hears Lady Eldebury's muffled invitation come from within. Once he does, he watches her eyes volley from his face to Regina's and back again multiple times before the old woman's puzzled gaze finally flicks down to where Regina's hand is held safely in his. Then, just as he's about to make a proper introduction, the marchioness's eyes widen with alarming understanding, her head lolls back into her pillows and her gnarled left hand involuntarily relaxes its grip on her lace handkerchief; sending it fluttering to the floor beside her bed.

When Regina glances at Robin and finds him stricken; rooted to the spot where he stands in uncertainty and shock; she lets go of his hand and approaches the bed. Repositioning the slumped old woman as gently as she can, Regina uses two fingers to search for, and quickly locate a pulse. For one instant, she thinks there is none, and in the next, the rhythm she finds is rapid but weak and irregular.

"Is she…? Robin trails off.

Regina shakes her head. "She's not dead."

Robin releases the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding in a quiet, but very noticeable whoosh. "Well, what's wrong with her?"

"I don't have a medical degree. However, if forced to guess, I'd say she fainted."

"Why?"

Well, it could just be because she's old and weak and very obviously on her deathbed. It could also have been a vasovagal reaction to the fact that she just saw me."

Robin squints, at a loss.

"When you were busy telling her about yourself, did you happen to mention that you're married?"

"Of course."

"To me?"

Robin squints again.

Regina sighs. "Robin, did you tell her that you're married… to me… The evil queen?"

"Of course not, I've never called you that, Regina. I'm not going to start now!"

Regina growls in frustration. "Robin! This is not Storybrooke! People here don't know that things are different. All they know is what they remember."

"Well, then it's time they start learning something new!"

"Robin, stop defending me for just one second. Think! She's an old woman. She's obviously weak. Her long-lost child walks in here announcing that he's married… to me… she could be having a heart attack right this second!"

Finally, he manages to uproot his feet and rushes to her side, gesturing wildly as he does so. "Well, do something! We can't let that happen!"

Regina smirks. "What's with this 'we' stuff? If she is having a heart attack, are you going to help heal her?"

Robin shoves his fingers through his hair in agitation. "Regina! Torture me later, please. For now, just fix it!"

She watches him squirm on the brink of panic for three long seconds before allowing the fingertips resting against the woman's carotid artery to begin to glow with a soft golden white light. Then, turning her full attention away from him and to the old woman, she places her left hand a ¼ inch above the marchioness's chest and it too begins to radiate a warm healing energy.

When the marchioness murmurs incoherently, Robin relaxes momentarily until she opens her milky green eyes and presses herself as far back into the pillows as she possibly can, and thrashes about frantically in a fruitless effort to put as much distance between herself and Regina as possible.

"It's alright." Robin tries to explain. "She won't hurt you. She's trying to help. Please let her. Be still, please, before you hurt yourself."

"Get away!" The old woman rasps in terror. I've done nothing to you. You can't have my heart!" She coughs violently and knocks the brass bell she's desperately clamoring for off the bedside table.

Stooping, Robin picks up the bell and places it on top of the nearest armoire; well out of her reach. "I'll give it back when you calm down and think… I promise. Now, are you in pain?"

She coughs laboriously, wheezing around the words, "Yes, of course, I'm in pain!"

"Is it getting worse, or better?"

Intent on berating him with her very last breath if that is what is necessary, she opens her mouth only to find her thoughts unexpectedly stalled at the last possible second as she stares into the dark eyes of a monarch long-rumored to be the most beastly of monsters.

"Better?" Regina queries; still focused on her task.

Lady Eldebury makes a noncommittal noise deep in the back of her throat as her eyes grow wide and she stares at the woman before her with a mixture of dread, confusion, and disbelief.

"Just lie still. Let the magic do its work. You’ll feel better soon. Robin owes you an apology. He should have explained things more clearly. Neither of us meant to frighten you, Marchioness."

Regina holds her hands over the woman's torso, still offering up the warmth of a healing energy until the old woman sits up a little straighter of her own accord; and chooses to brusquely shoo Regina away.

"That'll be enough!” She rasps with as much hostility as she can manage.

"Regina doesn't mind." Robin offers, still eyeing the old lady with a great deal of concern.

"I mind!" As long as I'm not dying then, I'll thank her to leave me be. She can keep her magic to herself."

Regina resists the urge to sneer, and even as Robin opens his mouth to object, she shakes her head. "It's her choice, Robin, it's her welfare."

Cecilia nods even as she raises an eyebrow in scrutiny. "Is that meant to ingratiate me?"

Regina lifts her left shoulder in a shrug. "Your feelings are your own, Lady Eldebury."

"Why have you done this?" The old woman demands more directly; suspiciously"

"Because he asked me to," Regina says simply.

"What subterfuge is this?"

"There is no subterfuge. He asked me to help you, and now I have. That's all."

In bewilderment, the marchioness looks between the handsome stranger she gave birth to and the visiting royalty whom she believes she knows all too well, even if by reputation alone. Squinting heavily, she asks, "What strange power does he wield over you?"

"Love should never be wielded, used like a weapon, and Robin wouldn't do that."

The marchioness scoffs in disdain. "Enough of this! I may be old, but I assure you I have not taken leave of my senses. What are the two of you playing at? You honestly expect me to believe he's in love with you."

Regina shrugs and although she speaks quietly and without malice, she speaks plainly. "Whether or not you believe it makes no difference. Your refusal to believe will not invalidate the truth of it or lessen its depths."

Cecilia squints again. "Then it must be magic, dark magic. What have you done? How have you enslaved him?"

"That's enough!" Robin snaps irritably while Regina's laughter is quiet and dry. "Do you see any shackles?"

Cecilia presses on. "There are other ways. I may not know much about them, but I do know there are other ways; magical ways." She turns an unyielding look of disbelief to Regina. "Your mother was known for snatching hearts right out of people's chests and there isn't a soul alive in all the kingdoms who doesn't know you've learned at her feet."

Unmoved, undaunted, Regina steps away from the bed, and judiciously avoids the soft squashy armchairs in the room that look as if one could sink into them and become lost for days. In her present condition, she knows it's unlikely she would be able to return to her feet with even the slightest bit of grace if she were to choose to rest here. "You aren't wrong, Lady Cecelia. My mother taught me well."

"You've taken his heart, then? You admit it?"

Regina shakes her head. "First, it isn't possible to take that which is given freely. Second, his heart is safe and sound in his chest where it belongs."

Cecelia eyes her with blatant distrust. "Can you prove that?"

Regina nods slowly. "I can… But I won't. And if you've ever truly been his mother, even just for five seconds, you won't ask me to."

"Why is that, Your Majesty?" Cecelia placates her, standing on ceremony.

"Because Marchioness…" Regina plays along snidely. "The only way to prove that his heart still resides in his chest is for me to remove it."

"And you won't?"

"I'd sooner rip out my own."

The old woman's head turns slowly as she passes another look between the two of them. "Will you swear to me that you have no control over him?"

Regina nods. "I have only the control he wishes to allow. He's free to be rid of me anytime he chooses."

Robin interjects. "That's never going to happen, so don't even bother wasting the breath necessary to ask."

The marchioness studies him with blatant puzzlement before returning her confused eyes to Regina. She coughs and reaches for a fresh handkerchief from the bedside table. "Forgive me, for asking a very blunt question, but why? If I'm to believe you - if I am to trust you, even marginally, explain it to me. By his own admission, his most recognized skills are thievery, and acting as a wet nurse to drunkards. What has he to offer someone of your standing…? Or is this marriage simply a means by which to annoy your mother for some perceived slight?"

Robin scowls hideously, on the verge of losing his temper when his wife holds up a hand, forestalling his rage as she laughs coldly in response to the vulgar question she's just been asked.

"My mother is dead, Marchioness. Furthermore, I've reached a point in my life where her opinion of my life no longer matters to me. My father's opinion, on the other hand, is of critical importance to me. Fortunately, he approves wholeheartedly of my choice of husband."

"Your father? Your father is dead."

"My father is alive and well."

The old woman eyes the queen's well-rounded abdomen. "I realize rumors and half-truths spread like wildfire throughout the kingdoms, but that's one bit of gossip that has been well substantiated. Has pregnancy somehow addled your mind?"

"Enough!" Robin snaps, unwilling to keep quiet one second longer. "You don't have to approve of our marriage, Lady Eldebury. You don't have to approve of our lives. You don't even have to like us, but if you don't want me to turn, walk out that door, and never return, you will treat me, and especially my wife, with at least a modicum of civility."

The marchioness glares at him insidiously. "How dare you shout at me!"

Previously having raised his voice only slightly, Robin stands his ground and glares back just as hotly. "That was not shouting. That was speaking firmly. Offering a demonstration, he raises his voice further still, "This is shouting! And, if you don't care for it then, I suggest you don't provoke it." He lowers his voice once more. "I am who I am. I did not arrive here, upon your summons – I might add, and attempt to conceal the truth from you. I'm not going to apologize for it either. The same can be said of Regina. I will apologize for frightening you. Perhaps, I should've done a better job preparing you for her arrival. Neither of us meant to cause any distress. But, to the best of my knowledge, she has never wronged you personally. Even if she has, she is not the same person anymore. I assure you; I am not with her under any form of coercion. She is my wife. I am her husband. And I don't give a damn what she did in her past, you will be polite to her!" Robin removes his wallet from the pocket of his trousers, opens it and takes out a collection of wallet size photographs. Approaching the bed, he extends his arm.

Wide-eyed and rattled, the old woman flinches but, after a moment's hesitation, she reaches for the photos; gingerly plucking them from his grasp.

He waits briefly, giving her time to glance at each photograph before speaking again.

Awestruck, she spreads the five small photographs out on the blanket beside herself, touches them hesitantly, and studies them with intrigue before swiveling her gaze between Robin and Regina once more and demanding in a soft breathless voice, "How does one make images so small with this much detail; and without paint?"

"They are called photographs, and they come from our world." Robin offers with a bit more patience. They are taken with a device called a camera. It's a small mechanized box with a viewfinder. It captures the image. I don't understand how it works. I just know it does."

"More magic."

"No." Regina instructs evenly. "Not magic; science."

"As you can see by the images, they were taken earlier in the pregnancy; about five months ago. Regina wanted a family portrait taken." Using his index and his third fingers, Robin carefully indicates two of the photographs. One is of their complete household – including a large brown and tan mastiff who is trying to outgrow the awkward stage between puppy and adult; and the other of their two sons, each of them in close proximity to Regina's father who is seated between a finely crafted bookcase and an expansive picture window that offers a splendid view of lush towering cedars. The old king's namesake is standing to his left and slightly behind his finely upholstered forest green wingback chair, a hand resting lightly on his grandfather's shoulder while his stepbrother - clad in overalls and hiking boots as if he just returned home from a boyish outdoor adventure, perches lightly against the opposite arm of the chair. Their expressions indicating that all three males have been captured and immortalized in the midst of an animated conversation.

Cecelia studies these images quietly for several long moments before inquiring in bewilderment, "But how is this possible? The king died by your hand."

"And he was restored by it as well, with the help of someone who loves him every bit as much as I do."

"Only the gods can restore life."

"Fortunately, we had at least one on our side."

"Why would any of them help you?"

"I believe it was out of gratitude."

"And may I ask how you came to curry the favors of a god."

Regina's head wobbles side to side. "You may ask. However, I'm afraid that if you want an answer, you’re going to have to ask Zeus directly. I don't know that I'm at liberty to divulge information regarding what he may view as a private family matter."

Cecilia's harsh laughter ends in a wheezing coughing fit. "Why would the God of Olympus, who is capable of all things, entrust his private family matters to a witch who wields dark power?"

Tired of the prying questions, Regina calmly and shrewdly turns the tables. "Why would anyone with the elevated grace and rank of marchioness secretly entrust something as precious as a newborn child to a penniless handmaiden?"

Cecilia scowls. "Given your own rank and everything you have done to achieve it, I'm quite certain you have an excellent understanding of why that was done."

Regina shrugs. "I'm afraid not, Marchioness. I am aware of what seems to be the standard operating practice for such events. However, I'm afraid I fail to reach the level of understanding it. In my mind, I can think of no circumstance that would induce me to commit such a self-serving action were I to find myself in a similar situation."

"How dare you judge me! I don't have to explain myself to you! I owe you nothing."

"That's right, Lady Eldebury. You owe me nothing… And that is precisely what I owe you. So, perhaps we can stop sniping at one another and get on with the business at hand. You asked Robin here for a reason; did you not?"


	15. Chapter 15

* * *

**The Underworld**

**(A place apart from time and space)**

Just because she can, Cora Mills hurls a massive fireball at Lord Death's short rotund manservant, Pain. Or is it Panic? She can never remember which one is which.

Who cares, it doesn't matter, she muses silently as he disintegrates into ash, with his tortured cries still echoing and colliding with the outer walls of her son-in-law's sanctum sanctorum.

Barely knocking at the door, she glides in without bothering to wait for an invitation. "Hades, what's going on? It's even more desolate and depraved out there than usu…" She comes up short at the sight before her. Still pointing over her shoulder to indicate the dark world beyond his door, she demands, "What the hell are you doing?" While she stares incredulously; her jaw dropping in nothing less than unfettered shock.

The Dark Lord's inner chamber has been completely gutted. All his prized possessions; unique items he has acquired over centuries have apparently been stored elsewhere. Even his elegant dark throne has been moved to one out-of-the-way corner of the room where he thought to put the few things he apparently was not willing to relocate.

His once opulent private chamber is now nothing more than an underground cavernous shell of rooms, stripped nearly bare, and in the center of this, the largest of all rooms, he kneels on the floor beside a brand new shiny red toolbox of gargantuan proportions. Stripped down to his trousers and his white undershirt, he crouches beside some metal monstrosity that she does not know how to identify.

Peering up at her slack-jawed expression without rising to his feet, Hades comments dryly, "Careful, Cora, your commoner's roots are showing. That gaping open-mouthed stare is not an expression one expects to find on the face of a queen."

"Go to hell." She snaps inanely; instantly modifying her stance, her expression, even her very bearing into something she knows is regal.

Hades gestures to the room around them, waving the tool in each hand as he does so. "Apparently, you haven't noticed. We're already there, Your Majesty."

Splitting hairs, Cora places her hands on her hips and eyes him with the sort of heated exasperation most women reserve for their wayward toddlers who have located and inexplicably decided to empty an entire bottle of shoe polish on the bathroom floor and then splash around in the puddle as if they have just discovered the countless messy joys of finger painting. "Technically, Hades, this is not hell."

"Close enough."

"What's going on Hades? What happened to all your things? What are you doing?"

Ignoring her questions, he holds up the two items in his hands: a pair of needle-nose pliers in the left, and the handle from a manual car jack in the other. "Which of these do you suppose is a torque wrench?" He asks in all seriousness.

By way of reply, Cora holds up her hands putting her unblemished manicure on display. "Do these look like the hands of someone who has ever held a torque wrench?"

"Good point. We're bound to have someone down here who knows his way around a garage. Go find me a fixer guy… and do it discreetly."

"Oh, so now I'm your errand boy?"

Scowling, Hades complains, "Cora, if you're not going to make yourself useful, make yourself scarce."

"You never answered my question. What is all this? What are you doing?"

Hades sighs in resignation. All this - is a 1922 Aston Martin, or at least it will be when it's fully restored."

"What is an Aston Martin?"

"It's a car. A very fine one."

"What, one of those strange mechanized carriages?"

"Yes, that's right."

Cora looks around at all the shiny metal detritus on the floor. "I think somebody lied to you, Hades."

"No one lied to me. You just don't know what you're looking at. That's the chassis over there. I've got the engine parts over here to your right. I'm going to put it together myself?"

Cora looks at him as if he belongs in a straitjacket. "Why would you, of all people, want to do that?"

"I need something to do."

"Being lord and master of the underworld is not enough?"

"I'm bored. And torturing Pain and Panic is not as much fun as it was six centuries ago. I need a project. Something to occupy my mind."

Cora stares at him as if he just announced an impending sex change operation. "First, this doesn't look like a project. This looks like barely controlled chaos. This looks like self-immolation waiting to happen. Second, I think you should have chosen a project you are better suited for. How are you supposed to assemble this Aston Martin when you don't even know the difference between a torque wrench and those two items you have there; because I may not be any better versed on the subject than you are, but I'm betting that neither one of them happens to be a torque wrench."

Hades shrugs undaunted. "Okay, so it'll take me a few centuries to figure it out. What do I care? All I've got is time."

Cora looks around as if something is missing. "Where's Eliana?"

"She's with her mother."

At Cora's horrified look, he clarifies quickly. "Your teenage granddaughters got together and worked up a little time-traveling spell."

For one hesitant moment, the Queen of Hearts is not certain how to react. "They did?" She sounds worried; almost frightened. "What do you mean, 'worked up?" She sounds curious.

"As I understand it, they tweaked one of Zelena's.

She starts out quietly and gets louder with each word. "They're modifying spells?" She sounds mystified. "Already? As teenagers? They're so young. Did it work… Did it work properly? Are they safe? Did they harm themselves? They're much too young, Hades! You shouldn't let them twitter around with such advanced magic. At that age, they lack the proper discipline, the perspective. They could be seriously hurt or even killed. You must put a stop to this… at once."

Hades grimaces, momentarily forgetting about his project. "Yes, it worked. They traveled back in time to before Norah was born to meet Robin and Regina. They are in the Enchanted Forest realm in the year 2015."

Cora's next words are so quiet they are nearly inaudible, but she sounds as close to transcendence as Hades has ever heard her. "My babies – my beautiful, flawless, powerful babies!"

Rolling his eyes, Hades elects not to mention the fact that she has conveniently skipped over a generation and that the flawless sirens she speaks so passionately of, did not come directly from her womb but those of her daughters. Instead, he simply snaps his fingers, magically transporting her to the other side of the closed chamber door. Without a moment's hesitation, he simultaneously locks the door denying her re-entry and turns up the volume on his stereo another twelve decibels effectively using Vivaldi to drown out her vehement door pounding and her strident objections.

* * *

**Oz**

**Present Day**

"And the road is in such terrible condition because?"

Perched atop a glimmering throne that is marginally smaller than her mother's but identical in every other way, Eliana watches as the captain of the imperial guard clears his throat nervously and stares at the toes of his boots; not daring to meet their eyes.

"As I mentioned previously, Your Eminence, the Treasury has done a bit of shifting…"

The wicked witch holds up an inpatient hand forestalling his predictable words. "Yes, parliament has voted to reallocate funding in other directions. You've said."

"It was done for the sake of prudence. It was done to increase the number among the rank and file so that we might stand strong in the face of possible attack. Kingdoms throughout the land – larger kingdoms than this one - are being seized. What without the clear and constant presence of our leaders… We only wish to protect…"

Zelena rolls her eyes. "You can simply say it was done to protect the palace. I wasn't born yesterday; I understand the potential for overthrow. I took the place by force myself as I'm sure you can recall. Has there been an attack? Has someone, anyone, made an attempt?"

"Not here in Emerald City. At least not yet, Your Eminence, but it seems to be happening everywhere. Someone's behind it. There must be an organized movement. They don't seem to be as prepared as they could be. However, there is a small but unified force, and with each seizure, it is gathering strength and momentum, rising like a dark tide. Parliament seems to feel that it is only a matter of time before we too are under threat."

"If that is the case, why is there no one in the courtyard below? The place is deserted. If people feel they were really in danger, wouldn't they be here demanding to know what is going to be done to protect them?"

The guard grimaces when the little bit of confidence he has gained in the last moment or two abandons him yet again. Clasping his hands behind his back, he says barely above a whisper. "Dorothy and her friend, the wolf, they have been looking after people beyond the city walls. All of Oz seems to be preparing for the possibility of assault. It is only the capital city that they leave to our concern."

Zelena inhales deeply. A new, dreadful thought curling her lips in disdain. "Do they have a chance of succeeding?"

"Not without our help."

"Are you quite sure? She demands callously. "Because if they are victorious over this 'dark tide' as you call it, their triumph will embolden them, and Emerald city will be next on their list. Or hasn't that thought occurred to you?"

"My main concern has been largely for the current threat." He licks his lips nervously.

"Well, that's not good enough; is it?" Zelena rages. "You must think five moves ahead of your opponent… All your opponents!"

* * *

**Elyria**

**Thorncrest Hall**

When she's certain that they have crossed firmly over into the camp of civility and will not, once again, retreat to opposite sides where they can snarl at one another from the safety of separate corners, Regina quietly takes her leave so as not to disturb the flow of conversation between Robin and the marchioness and slips out the door into the hallway.

Robin sees her leave but does not acknowledge her departure because he knows that if she had wanted to call attention to it, she would have done so herself.

Out in the corridor, she inhales deeply and rubs the aching spot in the small of her back. She's tired of sitting, she's tired of standing, she's hungry, and she's tired of being pregnant.

No, she silently corrects herself. That's not right. If, despite all their best efforts, nothing foretold is changed, this may be the only time she gets with her daughter. Understanding that, she changes her mind. She's not tired of being pregnant. She will endure. She's just plain tired.

Walking to the upstairs banister, she looks down into the grand foyer below. Absent-mindedly caressing her belly, she murmurs quietly. "Don't worry. Your daddy has to do this, but we'll work it out somehow. No matter what happens, I promise, you'll be okay. I'll make sure of that."

"Talking to someone?"

Regina looks up to find teenage Norah approaching and smirks self-consciously; caught in one of her softer moments.

"Yes." She answers truthfully because there's no point in denying it. "I was talking to you."

"In that case, could you try to sound a little more convincing?"

"What, you mean I don't?"

Stepping up beside Regina so that they are very nearly shoulder to shoulder, Norah shrugs and nudges her gently so as to take some of the sting out of the truth. "No, you sound worried, and kind of tired."

"Your dad needs to do this," Regina repeats with determination.

"What about you? What do you need?"

"I need…"

When a loud crashing noise and the sound of something shattering is heard coming from a room at the end of the hallway, both Norah and Regina look around startled. Sprinting in that direction, they are quickly joined by Beatrice who had returned to the north parlor to wait for Robin's return. Although she hasn't been in the household’s employee for decades, Regina allows Beatrice to assume the lead, because of the three of them, she's the only one who's likely to have any idea what they might expect to find in the room at the end of the hall.

Whatever Regina expects to find when they step over the threshold, she does not know. What they do encounter temporarily immobilizes her so completely that even her thoughts come to a grinding halt

"Oh, my Lord!" Beatrice cries out in shock and anger; hurrying to the bedside of a withered old man who is clearly held captive before either Regina or Norah can mentally process the scene before them.

The man's left wrist and his right ankle are both secured to his antique four poster bed with crude leather restraints that are much too tight; the flesh around his bonds is inflamed with angry red welts, and the contents of a shattered ceramic water pitcher are scattered across the floor with a few bloody shards seen in the immediate vicinity of his unrestrained foot.

When Norah attempts to step further into the room, Regina holds her off with a quick, but harshly delivered, "Stay where you are!"

The worried girl watches as her mother helps her grandmother forcibly but gently reposition the old man on the bed so that he can't further injure himself on the broken shards of pottery.

The front of his fine linen dressing gown is stained a dark yellow and the sharp odor of stale urine strangles the life out of any cleaner scent present in the air.

Beatrice makes quick work of releasing the bonds around the old man's ankle and, noticing that she seems to have no fear of him, Regina takes this as reason enough to release the one secured tightly around his wrist.

His eyes are a stormy shade of blue and unfocused. He cries out in agitation and probably pain. The few coherent words he says are peppered heavily with vulgarity.

Gently rubbing the flesh around his wounded wrist with one hand to restore circulation, Regina uses her free hand to lift his chin; forcing him to look at her. "Lord Eldebury?" She queries in uncertainty because It's been literally decades since she last saw him."

Nodding in the affirmative, Beatrice murmurs through tightly pursed angry lips. "It's him… He's an old man now, which I expected, but I never imagined he would look so… so…" She stops, not wanting to put a label to her worst thoughts. "Lord Eldebury? Can you hear me? Lord Eldebury? Frederic? Sir? It's Beatrice. Do you remember me?"

Regina watches as the vacant expression in his eyes clears with a sudden spark of recognition. "Bees."

Beatrice smiles bittersweet encouragement, the way an adult child smiles at a mentally altered parent. "That's right, Sir. Bees. I'm here now, and you're going to be okay. We're going to take care of you."

The old man smiles, and Regina guesses that the slurred speech might be exacerbated by his muddled thought process when he says, with almost childish glee, "Bees is here."

Once a man she clearly admired and cared for, Lord Eldebury now mutters to himself incoherently and appears to be nothing more than a geriatric shell of his former self. Beatrice keeps smiling but, behind the smile, a storm is brewing as she tries not to listen to her former employer babble errantly.

"Cat. No barking. Cat."

Regina watches Beatrice's jaw muscles flex and bunch in tightly controlled rage and she can hardly disagree with the older woman. When two of the household staff come, belatedly, rushing into the room in response to the commotion caused by its occupant, Regina rises to her full height, and points to the startled maid. "This man needs fresh linens and attire immediately!"

When the young woman looks around the room as if she isn't sure what to do, Regina growls, "What are you waiting for? Go now!"

When the older man at the maid's side attempts to depart with her, Regina roars. "Not you! You will stay here! You will explain this!"

When he says nothing, Regina places her hands on her hips and raises an eyebrow dangerously. "Well?"

"He can't be left alone." stammers the manservant who is so thin that a mild spring breeze might blow him over. "He requires constant supervision."

Glaring at him with nearly the same ferocity as Regina, Beatrice temporarily stops her inspection of the old man's wounds. "Then why, pray tell, does he not have it?"

"His day nurse had to leave unexpectedly. We're waiting for her replacement to arrive."

So, you tied a mentally unstable man to a bed, and left him alone?"

"He has to be restrained. His moments of clarity are few these days, but the last time he had one he tried to hurl himself out a window."

With dark animosity, Regina advances on the trembling manservant as he backs toward the door coming blindly in contact with the wall behind himself and skittering sideways, hoping for freedom.

"Then, I suggest to you that, at the very least, his bedchamber should be relocated to the ground floor where the possibility of hurling himself out a window is least likely to end his life!"

"We…We can have someone do that." The man licks his lips nervously.

"You will have someone do that… Today!" Regina hisses venomously.

"Ye…yes, Your Majesty."

"He needs fresh water and soap."

The skinny man looks around apprehensively. "I'll have one of the g…girls bring some up."

"I was speaking to you! You will see to it yourself… Now!"

He nods feebly, turns too quickly, nearly collides with Norah, who sidesteps his exit just in time for him to flee from the room as if he were trying to outrun one of her mother's fireballs.

When the four of them are, once again, alone in the room, Beatrice says, "You two step out for a moment. If he were lucid, he wouldn't want to be seen this way."

Already heading for the door, Regina nods and says over her shoulder, "Change his dressing gown, but hold off on the rest momentarily. Robin needs to know about this." She strides out into the hallway and disappears from view, a vengeful woman on a new mission.

Moments later, when she barges into Cecelia Eldebury's private bedchamber once more, the marchioness is explaining to Robin; "Nottingham… he's your second cousin. He is my youngest sister's grandchild. By birthright, unless you are either deemed unfit or you wish to renounce, my title becomes yours upon my death. You have an older half-brother. His name is Broderick. However, I'm afraid he neither wants the title nor is he suitable. He's too much like his fath…" She comes to an abrupt halt as Regina glares ominously at her from the foot of her four-poster bed. "Well, it seems the queen has decided to grace us with her presence once again."

Lest she strangles the old woman with her own bare hands, Regina ignores her, forcing her attention around to Robin. "You don't have to do this anymore. I'm sorry I ever encouraged it. I apologize, Robin."

Robin squints in confusion and shakes his head. "You were right, Regina. Something has to be done. The only reason Nottingham has attacked nearly every other kingdom in the area except for this one is that he has a foothold here. I'm guessing he knows that."

"Yes, but I told you not to close yourself off to her. That was wrong of me. You don't have to open yourself up. Not to anyone who lives here, least of all her."

Astounded by the complete 180-degree turn in attitude, Robin squints at his clearly infuriated wife. "Regina?"

She addresses the marchioness with cold fury. "This is over! I've seen all I need to. I'm not going to waste precious hours or even days trying to persuade you to grant him that which is rightfully his. You have a choice to make, Marchioness! You can do it now, by choice - and I mean right this very moment - or you can do it by force because I have neither the energy nor the inclination to waste another second in your company. You disgust me! You remind me of my mother! Thank you for letting him go when you did. If you hadn't, there's no telling who he would've become. He's certainly wouldn't have become the man I know and love. You would have tried to destroy him, the same as she tried to destroy me. I won't encourage him to spend another moment of his life under your influence."

Cecelia trembles with rage. "How dare you compare me to that… that monstrosity!"

"I suggest you look in a mirror, Lady Eldebury. With the exception of a few years, I don't really see that much difference!"

"Regina!" Robin stammers in shock.

She takes him by the hand, pulling him toward the door. "There is something you have to see. Come with me, and I promise you'll understand."

She stomps out the door she entered only a moment before, taking Robin with her.

Even pulled along, Robin has to trot to keep up with his wife's ground-eating strides as she traverses the length of the corridor. She doesn't stop until they reach the end of the hallway where they find Norah standing to the left of the closed door, and Robin eyes his scowling daughter with concern.

"You look angry enough to take after your mother and start throwing fireballs."

Norah nods with vigor as she spews, "They're lucky I haven't been born yet! I have no magic, otherwise, I'm pretty sure this whole place would resemble Dante's seventh circle of hell! If somebody treated Papa like that…" She growls in frustration. "Grandma Bea said for me to wait here. She's trying to make him a bit more presentable."

Robin squints, not fully understanding. "Make who a bit more presentable?"

"The Marquis." Regina fills in the blank as she taps lightly against the door. "She just wants to leave him with as much dignity as possible."

"Just a moment." Beatrice's disembodied answer comes through the door as Robin nods with only vague comprehension.

His mother opens the door granting them entry less than a minute later as the household staff returns. While Regina leads him into the room along with Norah, Beatrice supervises the others, allowing them to stay only long enough to deposit the much-needed supplies they bring before she angrily shoos them out again. She then turns to Robin. "Help me get him up so his bed linens can be changed." Robin nods as she adds cautiously, "Mind his wounds and try not to inflict new ones. His skin is terribly thin. It bruises and tears easily."

The old man's eyes slide toward Robin with uncertainty. "It's alright, sir. This is my son. His name is Robin. He's going to help you. You can trust him."

The old man's brow wrinkles as he slowly processes this new bit of information. "Robin? Little bird? Bee's bird?"

Stepping forward, Robin leans over his bedside with a quiet, "Allow me, sir." and gently lifts the old man's arm, draping it around his neck.

Seeming to understand, the old man does what he can to help, scooting himself feebly to the bed's edge; ready to put both feet on the floor until Robin quietly halts his progress with a single word.

"Regina."

"Oh, right. The pitcher. Hold on."

With a gentle wave of her hand, water and the shattered pieces of pottery rise into the air. As if someone has just pressed rewind, the broken vessel is restored to pristine condition.

Robin watches confusion turn to pure delight as a genuine smile spreads across the old marquis's face and he whispers conspiratorially, "She has magic!"

Robin nods, his steel blue eyes crinkling slightly at the corners as he smiles and whispers back, "She certainly does."

The old marquis eyes Regina with profound interest as he continues his hushed conversation. "She's an enchantress?"

"That, she is"

"Is she good?"

Robin pauses, seeming to give the question serious consideration before he shrugs and answers honestly, "Most of the time."

The old man nods, willing to accept what Robin says for truth and then whispers back, "Don't tell the cow. The cow doesn't like magic. She's afraid of it."

Robin raises a curious eyebrow, and when all three of the women in the room shrug, he whispers back without hesitation, "My lips are sealed."

With the floor cleared of shattered pottery, Robin walks the bare-footed old man to a nearby chair, while noticing that he relies almost entirely on his right leg; the left trailing behind him limply. Compensating for this, Robin eases him down into the chair as Beatrice and Norah tend to his bed. While they are busy, Regina approaches slowly and kneels before him to gently tend his various visible wounds, abrasions, and bruises.

With the wondrous delight of a child, he watches her hands glow warmly as his injuries are healed by magic.

"Feel better?" She inquires quietly.

The marquis only gives a slight nod and Regina does not know if it is simply the change in their proximity to one another, the little bit of movement, the healing of his wounds, or a bit of all three combined; but the thick fog in his mind seems to clear just enough and, for the first time, his gaze falls to her belly. Turning his old eyes slowly back to Robin, he smiles and makes another announcement. "She has a baby in there."

Robin chuckles as he rests a warm hand on Regina's shoulder. "Not for long. She's due any day now."

The old man studies the pair before him with an astute, if fleeting moment of absolute clarity. "He loves you."

Regina smiles. "That's what he tells me."

"Be nice to him."

"She is." Robin chuckles and then adds, "Most of the time."

His afterthought seems to trouble the marquis. "That's your baby?"

Norah covers her mouth, trying not to laugh too loudly at the old man's impertinent question or the obvious accusation behind it.

"She is." Robin answers with quiet confidence.

The old man eyes Regina with a moment's worth of suspicion before he nods his approval. "Good."

Before anyone can respond the black cat pokes her head into the room around the partially opened door and mews softly.

"Cat!" The marquis's eyes light up with unmistakable joy and he dangles his good hand over the arm of his chair and wriggles his fingers.

Understanding the invitation, the feline strides into the room and leaps gracefully up to perch at his side where she purrs loudly when stroked with obvious affection.

"Hello, Cat."

"What's her name?" Robin inquires.

"Cat."

"You haven't given her a name?"

The marquis shrugs. "Cat Cleo."

Norah smiles. "As in, Cleopatra. You were right, Daddy. She is royalty."

Suddenly too focused on his feline friend to pay attention to the conversation around him, the old man turns his gaze momentarily to Beatrice. "Milk."

Beatrice smiles in understanding. "Alright, we'll get her some milk. How about yourself? When was the last time someone fed you a proper meal?"

He frowns in confusion.

"Would you like some tea?"

He cringes as if he's afraid to give the wrong answer. "Mrs. Lampton."

Robin looks to his mother. "Any idea who that is?"

Beatrice frowns. "No, but we found him restrained to this bed. Therefore, I'm assuming he has exposure to a very limited number of people. She must be someone within the household. She might be the housekeeper. If she's not, then it's likely the housekeeper will know who she is."

When Regina struggles to rise to her feet, Robin offers her a sturdy arm to lean on. "Then we'll find the housekeeper and have a word with her. She smiles at Robin and holds her hand out, palm up."

Robin raises a curious eyebrow.

"She wants money." The old marquis guesses quietly.

They both laugh freely, and Robin shakes his head. "I may not know exactly what she's expecting, but I can almost certainly guarantee you, sir, that it's not money."

The old man shrugs. " The old purse becomes considerably lighter each times Cecelia does that to me."

When Beatrice smiles expectantly, Regina explains. "I need a word with my father, and I anticipate he'll want a word with King John following our conversation. I would prefer not to have to travel for an additional two days just to make that happen. So, I'm going to use a bean to open a portal."

"To what end?"

"I've had enough. The marchioness is no longer calling the shots in this house. King Henry and Lord Eldebury were once chess playing rivals…"

"Henry 'Royal Fork' Covarrubia!"

All eyes in the room turn to the old marquis as they become aware that he is, once again, cognizant of the world around him, or at the very least, marginally aware of the conversation taking place in his presence.

Placing her hand on his shoulder, Regina waits for the marquis' eyes to slowly find hers. "Did you say Royal Fork?"

When he doesn't respond immediately, she prods gently. "You did, didn't you, sir?

Beatrice grimaces. "Clearly he doesn't know what he's saying!"

Regina squints. "There's no question he's altered. But everything he's saying probably makes sense to him. Now that he's a bit more comfortable, it might do a good deal to alleviate stress and improve his awareness. I think it's possible he's more with us than you know. Somewhere between his brain and his mouth, it's just getting jumbled." The queen turns her head this way and that, looking around the room as if searching for something. When she locates what she wants, she smiles. "Norah, over there, across the room on the windowsill. Bring me the chess set."

When she complies, Regina quickly releases the latch on a small box that opens to reveal ornately carved chess pieces tucked inside. Carefully depositing all the pieces on the table beside his chair, she unfolds and upturns the hinged box; laying it flat so that it becomes a chessboard upon which to orchestrate a friendly game.

Frederic Eldebury watches Regina's every move as she slowly places the pieces on the board. As his tired old eyes track her hands they begin to brighten with keen understanding. Just to give him time to process, she meticulously places each piece on the board precisely where it belongs at a game's opening, and then, very slowly, she turns the board positioning the white pieces nearest to him. She glances up at him to make certain his eyes are still following her every move, and then, with great care and deliberation, Regina slowly begins to rearrange all the pieces one by one, according to the rules of the game, playing herself in a slow-motion version of a fast-forwarded game. After several minutes of gameplay, she stops her single-player game when one of her black knights is ready to slide into position to create what is known, in chess parlance, as a royal fork; whereby her opponent's king and queen, and rook are all simultaneously under threat courtesy of her knight.

Lord Eldebury studies the board intently before meeting her gaze and holding it. This time, he doesn't look away, flinch, or babble.

Regina raises an eyebrow. "Royal fork?"

"Henry."

"That's right. You used to play chess with Henry."

The old man reaches for her hand and pats it gently. "Henry's girl."

Regina nods affirmatively. "Yes sir. That's right. I am Henry's girl."

He picks up the black knight. "Little Regina loves horses."

She offers a slight shrug. "I still do." She searches his face eager to ask a question she doubts he'll be able to answer but as she does so, he studies her with equal curiosity and speculation.

"Lord Eldebury?" She decides to make the attempt. "Why did you stop coming to visit us? Daddy always enjoyed your company."

"Cows."

Regina blinks, mildly taken aback by the unexpected word. She tries again. "Did you have some sort of a falling out? Did you and King Henry have a disagreement?"

The marquis frowns in obvious frustration. "Damn cows!"

She sighs in resignation. "That's alright sir. Can you tell us who tied you to the bed?"

"Her boy."

"Whose boy? The marchioness?"

The old man looks to the wall adjacent to the bed where a large portrait of Cecelia Eldebury hangs. For a moment, he looks sad - deeply wounded - and then something in his expression turns to granite.

Although she does not physically recoil as Beatrice and Norah do, Regina’s eyes do go wide with shock when the marquis violently spits in the general direction of his wife's image and bellows with unmistakable loathing, "Round-heeled cow!"

It's a wonder Beatrice's teeth don't break skin when she clamps down on her own lower lip, trying to exercise some self-control.

Her eyes still filled with surprise; Regina shoots a hard look of warning in her daughter's direction when an involuntary bubble of nervous laughter escapes the girl.

Norah goes silent instantly but covers her mouth as Regina inhales deeply; not daring to open her own until she is absolutely certain that she will not burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter all her own. Only when she's confident that this will not happen does she seek and hold the old man's gaze once more.

"Would you like to talk to King Henry?"

"Bees is here. It's going to be okay now."

"Yes, sir. That's right. You wait right here. Beatrice will stay with you." Regina leaves his side and steps toward Beatrice as the older woman finally releases her lower lip from its vice grip between her teeth.

Whispering for Regina's ears only, she hisses angrily. "This is deplorable. This is wholly unacceptable. How can they do this? How can they leave him here like this? In this condition? It's inexcusable. It's disgraceful."

"I agree. And we're going to do something about it. You wait here with him. I'll be back as soon as I can."

* * *

**Covarrachia**

**Mourning Dale Palace**

**Present Day**

Alan steps into the grand hall wearing the same sort of curious expression a person always wears the first time he steps into anyone's home. The steward saunters off to inform the lord and master of his arrival. Left alone in the company of his traveling companion, Aradia Crowley, he waits to be formally received and quietly looks around with a bemused smile on his face.

For as far as he can see, both upstairs and down, some belated form of spring cleaning seems to be underway. His ears tell him that more of the same is going on in parts of the castle that are not visible from where he stands. Turning his head left and then right, he counts no less than eight people wandering to and fro; each of them in the process of sweeping, scouring, dusting, or otherwise making clean that which is not clean.

In and of itself, this fact is not remarkable. What is remarkable is that every one of these people is male and wearing not only some form of tattered uniform but heavy leg irons as well. Perplexed by this, he raises an eyebrow for the benefit of the redheaded woman at his side.

"Some sort of prison work program?"

First, she shakes her head, then she shrugs. "When was the last time you heard of royalty letting criminals in to do the housekeeping?"

Alan snorts as he thinks it over. "That would be never, but this particular king seems to be of few rungs higher on the evolutionary ladder than those I've previously had the distinct displeasure of meeting."

"Is that your subtle way of letting me know that he's more than just a Neanderthal in royal garb."

"It is. The queen's father is more of a self-taught intellect than a self-important gasbag."

Laughing, as he steps over the nearest threshold, King Henry announces his presence with, "I certainly hope so! Hello Alan. I was expecting you to arrive a few days from now with Regina and Robin."

"Yes sir, originally, that was the plan. I've had a message from Robin. They may be a day or two longer than he had hoped. Apparently, he and the marchioness have had a rocky introduction. He asked that I arrive ahead of them and aid you with the rousting of any squatters who may have taken up residence in your absence. Though, from what I can see, you don't appear to need my help."

Shrugging, Henry steps closer and lowers his voice to a more discreet level. "I'm afraid they've made quite a mess of the old place. I told them they could attempt to flee, and risk being tossed headfirst over the ramparts or they could stay, temporarily indentured, and clean up their mess; after which I would allow them to leave as free men provided they didn't make the mistake of returning."

Alan guffaws boldly. "Have you made good on the threat?"

Henry shakes his head, his eyes going wide as he announces, "Not yet… But the night is young, my friend. One of them, I know not which one, but one of them decided to relieve himself on my mother's portrait. If I am lucky enough to discover his identity, he will be the first to go."

Still laughing, Alan declares, "I like your style, sir. They barge into your home uninvited, behave like animals, defile your possessions, attempt to claim your throne, and you have the grace to spare the people the tedium of a long drawn out trial. They can either clean up their mess and leave quietly, or I'll throw the lot of them off the bleeding roof!"

Henry nods politely without comment. half of his attention suddenly elsewhere, he smiles apologetically at the woman standing immediately to Alan's left and shakes her hand. "You must be Aradia Crowley. Alan tells us that you may be able to help my daughter if her time comes while she's here."

It's an honor to meet you, Your Majesty and yes, that is why I have come. I'm afraid that I can offer you no guarantee of a flawless delivery but, I give you my word, I will do whatever I can to be of service and keep both your daughter and granddaughter safe during delivery if the need arises. Of course, in order for me to do that, she must be here. That, or I must go to her."

"We've been made aware of the date and time of her delivery. At the moment, she and my son-in-law are dealing with something very important. But, if he cannot take her back home to Storybrooke where she will be safest, Robin will get her here. You can count on that. He's the only person alive more concerned about our girls than I am."

"Is there something else troubling you, Your Majesty? Have I done something to make you uncomfortable?"

"Not at all. Why do you ask? And please call me Henry."

"Well… You're staring at me rather intently, sir."

"I am, aren't I? Please forgive me for being ungentlemanly. It's only that you bear an utterly striking resemblance to my daughter's sister."

Aradia raises an eyebrow in response to his unusual turn of phrase and repeats his words back to him, annunciating clearly. "Your daughter's sister?"

Henry nods. "Yes, well… Half-sister. Common mother, different fathers."

"Aww, I see, and we share a strong resemblance?"

"Very strong. Almost eerily so."

"Your daughter? She is Regina, queen of The Enchanted Forest; correct?"

"Yes, that's right."

"I know of her, of course, but I have not spent a great deal of time in this realm until just recently. The half-sister's name: if you would be so kind?"

"Zelena."

And their mother's name?"

"Cora Mills."

If possible, Aradia's milky complexion suddenly becomes even more pale.

Alan touches her arm with concern. "Rae? Are you unwell?"

Obviously dazed, she continues, as if she hasn't heard the question he asked. "Cora Mills, the Queen of Hearts?"

Henry nods grimly. "It appears my late wife's insidious reputation has outlived even her."

"Can you put me in touch with your… Well, no, she would be no relation to you. Can you put me in touch with Zelena?"

"Well, I can certainly try. Is there a problem?"

Aradia Crowley laughs merrily. "Problem? No, there is no problem. But I suspect… I suspect very strongly that your daughter's sister may be my granddaughter. If I am correct, my son was her father."

* * *

In the wake of Aradia Crowley's unexpected announcement Regina enters the room and comes to a stop immediately to her father's right as if she were somehow expected. Thus, effectively doubling his cause for surprise.

Regina nods politely, acknowledging his company before turning her full attention to him. "Daddy, are you alright? You look… Well, I don't know. I guess maybe you look shocked. What's wrong?"

Henry stammers wordlessly for a moment before shaking his head and asking the most pressing questions on his mind. "Regina, what are you doing here, sweetheart. Where did you come from? When did you arrive, and where is Robin?" Henry looks around briefly as if searching for something. "Where's the rest of your entourage?"

She offers her father a bemused little smile. "My entourage?"

His eyes twinkle merrily. "Forgive me, for pointing out the obvious dear, but I'm more likely to travel without one than you."

Regina shrugs. "I suppose that's true enough. I just stepped through the mirror upstairs in my old room, and I left them in Elyria." She smiles primarily for the benefit of the unfamiliar woman standing beside Alan and her eyes widen almost imperceptibly as she gives the redhead a moment's worth of undivided attention

"You must be Aradia Crowley."

"Yes, I am."

"Thank you for coming all this way." Regina shakes her hand, and studies her with no less curiosity than the older woman clearly exhibits for her. "I would like for us to get acquainted. However, right now, I must beg your pardon. I need a word with the king."

"Very well. Should we wait here?"

Henry answers, "No, you must be tired and hungry after your long journey." For Regina's benefit, he explains, "They've only just arrived. Will it be alright if we provide you with a meal and a comfortable place to enjoy that meal while my daughter and I confer?"

When both Alan and Aradia nod agreeably, Henry and Regina escort them to a lavishly decorated sun-drenched parlor. On the way there, the king catches the attention of a finely dressed manservant and informs him quietly of their needs and where they will be. He genially instructs his staff, "Have a word with Mrs. Hale. I trust that between you and she, they will have all they desire, Whittenour."

The butler wears a somber, unreadable expression but whatever his opinion of his orders or the people they relate to, he bows slightly and after a quietly delivered, "But of course, Your Majesty, he disappears from sight leaving the king and his daughter to continue on their way with his charges in tow.

Once their guests have been made comfortable and they are alone in his private study, Henry watches his daughter slowly traverse the perimeter of the room with her fingertips trailing gently over the spines of numerous books and various belongings nestled on its many shelves, the thought occurs to him that, like he did upon first reentering this room, she's reacquainting herself; saying hello. For a few seconds he stands still, just watching her. Only, in his mind's eye, she is neither married, nor is she gracefully enjoying middle age. She certainly isn't due to deliver his grandchild at any time. No. The daughter he sees before him hasn't yet reached her 18th birthday. She's young, and although she's never known the luxury of being truly carefree, there's a noticeable air of youth and vitality about her. She's just come in from an afternoon spent at the stables, and she's still dressed for riding; a few stray wisps of hair escaping from her long braid and forming a dark and gentle windblown halo around her face. She's smiling at him; teasing him – laughing at him over some folly he has long since forgotten.

In the short time he's been back in residence, this room has been one of the few to be cleaned entirely, floor to ceiling and wall to wall. It's one of a very select few already polished and shined to its former glory, and unlike most of the other rooms in this palace, this one bears the distinct appearance of being lived in. Which is to say that it is clean, but not immaculate, with a touch of understated and, decidedly male, elegance.

Strolling slowly around the room, Regina releases the clasp of her cloak as she waits for her father to take the seat behind his desk. Still content to watch her quietly, he opts instead to perch lightly against the arm of a comfortable old sofa. Noticing this, she finishes her quick tour around the room and then casually folds her cloak over the back of his chair.

Settling in with confidence, his adult daughter makes herself quite comfortable behind his desk, as she always has. Even as a toddler, she would race into this room and, with great zeal, she would claim his chair for her own. If he was already seated, she would simply climb onto his lap and demand to be the sole winner of his attention. Either she simply wanted to sit where he sat or, on some intrinsic level, she has always understood that ultimately the chair would be hers. He doesn't know, but whichever it is, the simple act of watching her help herself to his chair floods him with paternal warmth.

"Daddy?" Regina raises an eyebrow when he doesn't answer right away. "Daddy are you with me? What are you smiling about?"

Henry reluctantly leaves his reverie behind and offers her a casual shrug, "Some things never change. What was so important you had to come all this way on your own. You're not supposed to be unaccompanied, dear."

"Robin was standing right beside me up until the point that I donned my traveling cloak in Thorncrest Hall. I asked Robin for a bean to make the journey here easier and Norah pulled my cloak from her knapsack. Apparently, Robin handed it down to her on her 15th birthday, provided she promise not to use it to go too far away from home or get into too much trouble with it."

Her father chuckles. "Oddly enough, I recall giving you a similar warning when I gave you that thing on your 15th birthday. Your mother was furious with me over my choice of gift, and you don't listen now any better than you did then. You're not supposed to be traveling anywhere alone… Not by magic cloak or otherwise."

She sighs heavily. "Daddy, I've literally been away from Robin for less than 90 seconds. I've been here for 75 of them. What could possibly happen to me? You're here. I'm perfectly safe. There's trouble in Elyria, and fixing it is going to require your help."

Henry raises an eyebrow. "Norah and Robin… They're alright, aren't they?"

He nods, quietly answering his own question even as she asks, "Would I have left them if they weren't?"

"What seems to be the trouble? Has the marchioness passed on before Robin could speak with her?"

"No." Regina chews on her salty tongue, choosing words that are appropriate in place of those she would like to say. The marchioness of Elyria is still among the living… Though judging by the looks of her, not for long. At present, it's her husband we're most concerned with."

Henry says with a shrug, "It's not as if Robin's right to the title is going to be secret for very much longer. I know Frederic wasn't pleased with his birth. Had I been in his shoes, I wouldn't have been either but surely, he doesn't intend to contest Robin's birthright. He told me himself several years ago that his son, Broderick, had no interest in claiming the position for himself. Unless, well, I suppose things could have changed…" He raises an eyebrow.

Regina shakes her head. "Only minutes before I left, the Marquis was talking with Robin, casually, even comfortably. However, he has no idea who Robin is, Daddy, at least not in relation to the marchioness. He's an old man. He's in poor health and his mind is altered. I think he is aware of more than people give him credit for, but I'm not sure how much more." She lowers her voice to a more discreet level. "We found him inside a room, alone, and restrained to a bed, Daddy. His restraints were so tight that he had wounds. And I don't see how it's possible this could happen without the marchioness knowing about it. She may be old and in poor health herself, but unlike her husband, her mind is as sharp as ever. She knows who I am… or it would be more accurate to say she remembers who I used to be. Furthermore, to say that she's displeased with Robin's choice a bride…" Regina breaks away, laughing drolly. "I don't care. I was prepared to stay and take whatever she dished out for Robin's sake, at least until we found her husband unattended, bound to a bed, and bleeding. After that, I'm not going to waste time trying to persuade the woman to do the right thing." Regina touches her own belly affectionately. I have more important things to worry about."

Henry frowns with concern for his old friend. "You're quite sure he was left alone?"

"Daddy… I asked the staff why he was left alone. We were informed that his day nurse had to leave unexpectedly, they were waiting for her replacement, and that they thought the restraints were necessary because the last time he was left unattended he tried to jump out a window. Even if that's true, he had been left alone so long that his bed sheets were soaked in urine. His wounds were bleeding, and the man looked as if he hadn't had a proper bath for weeks. I don't know how long they left him alone in that room, but I'm certain it was more than just a couple of hours."

Henry's jaw tightens noticeably. "How is he now?"

"I tended to his wounds, and he's still familiar with Beatrice, at least on some level. She tended to his personal needs and cleaned both him and his bedchamber up a bit. The freshening up seems to have helped with his state of mind as well. He's quite loquacious, but I'm afraid not everything he says makes sense. At least not to me. He did call me your girl. He also referred to me as little Regina. So, I'm relatively certain that he is lucid, even if only for a few moments at a time. He also called the marchioness a cow at least once. I'm not sure how to interpret that. Maybe old age and senility have loosened his tongue a bit."

Perhaps anyone else would have missed it, but Regina knows her father too well and easily recognizes the flicker of self-restraint that flashes in his eyes the instant before he doesn't smile.

"That has nothing to do with his being old or senile, dear. Though to the best of my knowledge, when he was younger and in better health, he only said things like that when alone in my presence. He referred to the marchioness and your mother collectively as, 'The heifers, at least up to the point that both Broderick and you were born. At that point, he simply began referring to them as 'cows."

Regina nods and murmurs wryly, "Because heifers are cows that have yet to give birth."

Henry nods. "I told him it was a bad habit to slide into. I'd told him it would get him in trouble someday. He laughed and declared, "Let us hope so."

"I asked him why he stopped coming to visit with us. His reply was, 'Damn cows.' At that time, I thought he was just rambling incoherently."

"No. A select few people knew, or at least speculated, about the marchioness and her second pregnancy. Unfortunately, your mother and I were among the few. When the pregnancy came to an obvious end and there was no child, nor any mention of a child. Your mother deemed the marchioness unfit to associate with, and the rest of her family by extension. Cora did not want you associated with the family in any way."

Regina shakes her head and chuckles grimly. "Clearly Mother has yet to discover that Robin is the product of the pregnancy."

Henry shakes his head as well. "Obviously not. She couldn't be bothered to even acknowledge my presence when we were both in the underworld. I was of no importance to her then. At least not until you showed up."

"Then you were just a pawn to be sacrificed to get me to do her bidding."

He nods. "If she were aware that you're now married to the child whose family she tried to keep you away from, she certainly would've had something to say about it. Even if not directly to me, I'm certain I still would have heard about her displeasure over the matter. Back then, Frederick and I discussed it. We agreed, reluctantly mind you, that it would be best for all involved if he and I were to end our association."

For a moment, Regina grinds her teeth in pent-up anger. "Even your friends… Is there nothing she didn't take from you, Daddy?"

"There's no point in being angry about it now. She's gone. And that anger you feel will only hurt you. I don't want that, sweetheart. Separating myself from him was the only way I could think to spare him. He was not a man known for holding his tongue. It was only a matter of time before your mother became aware of his little pet name for her and the Marchioness."

Regina's eyes widen as she scoffs. "She would have ended him."

"Yes."

"The Marquis is still alive, Daddy. Time has most certainly taken its toll, but if you're interested, seeing a familiar face… Assuming he recognizes you… might do him some good."

"He recognized you."

"I have no idea how. I was a child - a very small child - the last time I saw him."

"Perhaps he's not as far gone as he seems. How does the rest of Elyria seem to be faring?"

"Poorly, from what Robin and I have seen firsthand. It's rather obvious that either through willful neglect or perhaps simple inability, the Marquis and Marchioness are not meeting their duties. If I found her more agreeable, I would recommend reasoning with her. Until he gets his footing, Robin's going to require some support to do the job. She's not going to work with me. It's unlikely she's going to work with you by association. That's my fault. I won't pretend she doesn't have grounds to feel the way she does about me, but I'm not going to stand by and ignore the fact that she's keeping a mentally compromised old man tethered to a bed."

Henry shakes his head. "If she'll allow her own husband to be treated that way, I can't imagine the borders of Elyria are in any better shape. How would you like to proceed?"

"Elyria shares a border with Covarrachia. What I'd like to do is lay claim to it. However, such an act must be handled delicately."

"Yes, I agree. Laying claim to Elyria would likely be perceived as an act of war on my part. I would prefer not to ruffle King John's feathers. I'm hardly in a position to stand in judgment. Once I was able to leave the underworld, I chose to go to Storybrooke with you. I daresay Covarrachia was left alone too long and is in scarcely better shape than Elyria. We've got a mess to clean up. Either we devise a better means of traveling between realms so that we can do it more frequently, or we choose to do the responsible thing and let this place go – appoint someone to rule properly in our place."

"You aren't wrong. I'm already thinking about that. I think I can come up with a way to establish more convenient travel between realms. If not, then I'm willing to do as you suggest and appoint someone in our places. We should loop Snow in on this conversation at the first possible opportunity. In the meantime, what do we do about the Marquis? He needs help now. And Robin and I have …"

"Other responsibilities that require your immediate attention as well."

Regina nods. "I don't have the time, the energy, or the inclination, to wage war with King John over the mismanagement of Elyria."

"Leave John to me. I'm sure he and I can work out some sort of gentleman's agreement – perhaps even one that will be mutually beneficial."

"That's what I was hoping you would say. Now…" She smiles mysteriously. Can we talk about something of far less importance, but no less intriguing?"

"Please."

"Tell me I'm not the only one to notice the bizarre resemblance between Zelena and the dowager out there on Alan's arm."

Henry chuckles. "Noticed that, did you?

Regina rolls her eyes. "Daddy! I would have to be blind and deaf not to notice that. She even sounds like her."

"I've already mentioned it to her. I'm afraid she caught me staring. When I mentioned your mother's name, her attitude changed immediately.

"Well that's to be expected. Much the same way people's attitudes change when you tell them I'm your daughter."

Henry shakes his head. "I don't think you understand. At least not this time. sure, she was fearful at first. Then disgusted. Then, excited… Even happy."

Regina scowls, "You're right. I don't understand."

She suspects that she may be your sister's paternal grandmother. I'll gladly shoulder the burden of talking to King John if you talk to your sister."

Regina groans. "Sure, why not!" She rises from her father's chair. On her way to the door, she turns back. "The only thing I know about Zelena's father is that he lied to Mother. Are we sure his mother can be trusted? Do I want this woman helping to deliver my baby; if it comes to that?"

"Don't try and convict her by association alone. Talk to her. Make your own discoveries and decide for yourself based on what you find; not on the rumors or opinions of others."

Regina nods and Henry halts her progress once more. "Before you go…"

She raises an impatient eyebrow.

"Escort me to Elyria, if I'm going to speak with John, I'd like to see things for myself beforehand."

"We may as well take Alan and Aradia with us. Before I make any decision about her, I'd like for Robin to meet her."

Henry nods. "If we're all going, I'll need to inform Whittenour."

Less than 20 minutes later, the foursome gathers in an upstairs hallway before what Regina has always considered to be a rather unbecoming portrait of her paternal grandfather. Not for the first time in her life, she finds herself staring at the painting; gazing into eyes she's intimately familiar with. She sees them every morning in the mirror. They are the only part of the man she recognizes within herself. The rest of her physical appearance seems to be inherited, for the most part, from her paternal grandmother, Alicia, whose portrait holds a place of honor in her father's private study.

When she absent-mindedly presses a fist into the small of her back and roughly massages a persistent ache found there, her father raises a concerned eyebrow. "Should we wait? Do you need to rest?"

Unaware of her own actions, Regina eyes him with confusion. "I'm fine. I was just wondering who commissioned this painting of Grandfather. I can't remember it ever not being here?" She tilts her head to one side as she continues to study the image before them. It's not a very flattering portrait."

Henry's studies the painting himself as if looking at it for the first time in years. "I'm sorry to say it's a true likeness. The artist captured him quite honestly. You got the very best of him, my girl."

"Did I?"

Henry nods. "Your grandmother once told me in confidence that his eyes were the only beautiful thing about him."

Aradia offers the king a melancholy smile. "How sad, that a wife should find so little beauty in her own husband."

Regina scoffs. "Marrying undesirable spouses for the sake of a kingdom is something of a tradition in this family."

Alan chuckles quietly in response to Aradia's worried frown.

"Alan led me to believe that the two of you are quite happy."

Henry is steadfast in the effort not to smile. "My daughter was referring to her first husband. Not the current one."

Regina sighs deeply. "Definitely not. The only beautiful thing about Leopold was his daughter, and for years, I tried to kill her. Robin on the other hand… Well, Robin is a different story."

Musical laughter rises from the redhead's throat. "I'm glad to hear it. Humans mystify me with their unfathomable ability to go through life accepting less than pure unadulterated happiness."

Regina squints as she swings her enchanted traveling cloak over her shoulders once more and then reaches for her father's hand. "You're not human?"

Aradia wobbles her head side to side. "Only half. My father was a dark priest; very human and very fallible."

"And the other half?"

"My mother is Selene."

"Is? As in – still living? Wait. You're talking about the moon goddess."

"Yes. And yes."

"Aren't all of you related to each other? When Aradia raises an eyebrow, Regina fills in the blank. "Gods, I mean."

"Yes, why?"

"Because if you are my sister's paternal grandmother, then, she's related to her husband."

Aradia is silent for a moment, working something out in her mind. Then, her green eyes widen dramatically. "Oh, my stars! She's that Zelena?"

"You mean you didn't know?"

"Forgive my ignorance. I haven't been to Olympus in a number of years. I'm afraid I'm rather out of the loop when it comes to family gossip. I get all the family news secondhand and sometimes the facts get a little skewed as they travel the Olympian Grapevine."

"You haven't been to Olympus in years? How many; if I may ask?

"Three or four centuries." She shrugs nonchalantly, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "I've lost count."

Regina tries not to stare in blatant wonder. "Why so long?"

"Cast out."

Regina simply nods, and when she doesn't ask the next obvious question, Aradia squints in anticipation and then smiles with approval. "I don't think the relation factor is cause for concern. They are only third, or maybe forth, cousins twice removed. It's not like they are brother and sister. Although, I do have a few married cousins who are brother and sister. Gods don't seem to mind. Especially not in the older generations. It's far less common today. Thank goodness. Personally, that particular practice has always turned my stomach, but genetically, it's not potentially harmful to us the way it is with humans."

Regina reaches for her hand. Holding on to her father's hand as well, she waits for Aradia to take hold of Alan's and then reminding them all to hold tight and not let go until their feet are firmly on solid ground, she closes her eyes and focuses fiercely on her intended destination until the cloak's magic is triggered and her return to Elyria initiated.

* * *

**Elyria**

**Thorncrest Hall**

In seconds, her nose detects the faintly musty odor of an unused place and Regina opens her eyes to find herself back in the grand foyer on the ground floor of Thorncrest Hall.

Materializing on her right, Aradia looks around slowly with wide curious eyes. "Very interesting. I've never traveled by cloak before. I'm told they are an exceedingly rare find. There are precious few mages ever lucky enough to possess one. And you even take people along with you when you travel?"

Regina shrugs. "Today is the first time I've ever tried."

Aradia stares incredulously. "Traveling by cloak."

Regina shakes her head. "Taking people along for the ride. Seems to have worked okay. Is everyone alright?"

They all turn, looking at each other and nodding.

Satisfied that they are unharmed, Regina begins to climb the grand staircase and addresses Aradia once more. "So, you've known about Zelena?"

Yes and no. I know of her, of course. The Wicked Witch is legendary. I also knew it was possible that a child existed. I didn't know that she was that child. I didn't even know with certainty whether the child was male or female. A number of years after her birth my son admitted to his dalliance with your mother. He told me that she had claimed to be pregnant when last he saw her. I confess, when he mentioned your mother's name, I'd told him he would be better off to steer clear. When your father spoke of our resemblance to one another earlier today… well, it is possible I'm not related to your sister, but I think it rather unlikely given the way the two of you are working so hard at not staring."

"The resemblance really is remarkable. She even sounds like you. I'll have to send word to her. I'll ask for your patience, of course. If Oz is in similar condition to Elyria, Covarrachia, and the Enchanted Forest, she may not respond immediately."

Aradia nods. "That's entirely understandable. She may not want to respond at all. Presuming a relation, I've not been a part of her life thus far. She may feel she doesn't need me in the least."

Regina squints and shakes her head as she reaches the second-floor landing. "I don't disagree, that is one option available to her, but I don't see her reacting that way. It's not her style. The thing she wants most is to feel that she has someone or something that is solely and unimpeachably her own. At the very least, she'll be curious enough not to disregard news of you. I can't guarantee you will like her response, but I'm confident she will, indeed, respond."

Aradia tilts her head and the smile she offers is slow to form. "What a curious choice of words. If I am indeed her family, then, could you not fill the same vacancy. How few people in life can legitimately claim to have a royal sister of such infamous caliber as yourself?"

A small bemused chortle escapes Regina. "I'm afraid I'm not the answer to all my sister's hopes and dreams. Until very recently, I was, unwittingly, the source of her worst nightmares. I knew nothing of her until a short time ago. She, on the other hand, not only knew of my existence but resented me for it. Our mother cast her aside and then chose, nearly three years later, to keep me. Zelena felt… Well, she probably still does feel… That I was afforded things she was denied. And she's not wrong. I was. When we first met, she felt entitled to claim everything that was mine, including my relationships. Things are better today. She's no longer actively trying to take things away from me, but she takes immense pride in having things I don't."

Aradia raises an eyebrow. "So, having a grandmother she doesn't have to share with you…"

Regina nods. "She'll probably enjoy that."

"Forgive me, Your Majesty, but that sounds rather purile… Something small children would squabble over. 'Haha, she's my grandmother, not yours!"

Regina shrugs as she opens the door to the north parlor. "There's nothing to forgive. I agree wholeheartedly. It's blatantly childish behavior, but Zelena and I were never given the opportunity to indulge in normal sibling rivalry as children. Maybe she's making up for lost time. It doesn't really matter. I'll deflect anything she throws at me as long as she continues to leave Robin alone."

Aradia squints. "Your husband?"

Regina nods affirmatively as, upon hearing his name, Robin rises from one of the sofas inside the parlor and bows slightly. Smiling, he takes Aradia's hand in greeting. "Guilty as charged. You must be Ms. Crowley. Alan said he would be arriving with you, though I suggested he go straight on to Covarrachia without stopping here." When Regina's father is the last man through the door, Robin smiles in understanding. "Well, never mind that. If your host is here with you…"

"Robin of Locksley I presume, and please call me Aradia. Whenever someone calls me Ms. Crowley, I have the uncomfortable urge to run for cover."

Robin chuckles. "Why is that?"

"Because when I hear that name, I automatically assume my former mother-in-law is hovering in the ether above our heads and will swoop down, making one of her inglorious entrances just when she's least wanted."

Robin nods with understanding. "Aradia it shall be then. I have one of those mothers-in-law myself."

Regina steps up beside Robin and quickly steals a feather-light kiss, as she discreetly but soundly elbows him in the ribs and murmers, "You best hope yours isn't somehow hovering in the ether above our heads. She'll have yours in retaliation for that comment."

Robin shrugs comfortably. "She's in the underworld."

"And you know that for certain?" Regina raises an eyebrow. "How many times have you been and come back from the underworld?"

Robin shrugs even as he nods. "A couple. But I'm not dead."

"Need I remind you that you don't have the power she does. Don't count on death to stop Cora Mills from making one of her own inglorious entrances."

Chuckling at their banter, Henry makes his way across the room and perches on an ottoman beside the finely upholstered sofa where the Marquis of Eldebury reclines in his favorite smoking jacket and, squints curiously at the newcomers in the room while struggling to make heads or tails of the lively conversation.

Leaning forward, Henry touches him gently on the shoulder.

The marquis's eyes slowly find the king's and for a long moment, he stares with an intriguing mix of uncertainty, wonder, disbelief, and hope. Cocking his head to one side, he reaches out and touches Henry's face with hesitant trembling fingers. "Henry?"

"Hello, my old friend."

"Who are you calling old? Have you looked in a mirror recently?"

Henry chuckles. "Have you?"

"Yes. The mirror stole my face!"

Laughing harder, Henry pats his shoulder. "It's done no such thing. The face you see in the mirror… That is your face."

"Is not! The mirror lies. I don't know who that is. That's just some dirty old man. I don't feel old."

Laughing harder still, Henry replies, "Neither do I, but everyone around me seems to think differently. Sometimes even my body disagrees with me."

The marquis squints in confusion. "Am I dead, Henry?"

"Not in the least."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course. Why would you ask such a question?"

"Bees took me from my room, and well… you're dead, and you're here."

Beatrice, who is seated in a chair nearby, nods her head when Henry looks up inquiringly. "Robin and I moved him from his room so that the household staff can relocate his most important belongings without his being underfoot. He needs to move to a room on the lower floor for his own convenience and safety."

Turning his attention back to his old comrade, Henry shakes his head as Regina steps up behind her father and quietly lays a hand upon his shoulder. "No, Frederic, I'm not dead."

Eldebury shakes his head insistently and whispers conspiratorially as if he's imparting a great secret. "You are too you, old goat! Little Regina killed you. Every soul in the eight kingdoms from squire to royal was talking about it." He pauses to scowl, suddenly feeling quite suspicious. "Or did somebody lie to me."

Regina explains quietly. "No one lied to you, sir."

The marquis's befuddled gaze travels from Henry to Regina and back again.

Henry pats his daughter's hand affectionately. "What's done is done. The important thing is that when the opportunity presented itself, she brought me back."

"Back from the afterlife?"

"Yes, that's right."

The old man's scowl deepens along with his confusion. "Did you want to come back?"

"I did."

"Why? Isn't the afterlife better than this? Didn't you find your redheaded snippet?"

Henry scowls good-naturedly. "Yes, I found her, and be nice! Don't make me regret the fact that I told you about my redheaded snippet."

"You left eternity with her… To come back here?" The marquis stares incredulously at the king's face.

"I said I found her. I didn't say I was with her. At least not yet. I'm afraid I got stuck in the underworld. That's what happens when you die with unfinished business. It's not a nice place… At least not for civilized folk. To tell the truth, I was quite bored with death. There wasn't enough to occupy the mind. The place is sorely in need of a proper library." Henry shifts his attention back to his daughter momentarily. "Regina, dear, maybe you could have a word with your brother-in-law about that."

Rolling her eyes, Regina laughs drolly. "Sure Daddy. I'll put it on my to-do list right after, 'take over a small kingdom' and 'try not to die giving birth!"

The marquis eyes his old friend sharply and speaks with candor. "Your little princess grew into a sensuous woman, but she's still fresh as she ever was."

Henry's dark eyes twinkle merrily. "Frederic, my friend, you don't know the half of it!" He looks around the room. "I apologize for shuffling you all about, yet again, but I wonder if the marquis and I might have a few moments of privacy?"

Regina nods curiously. "You'd like the room to yourselves?"

Henry nods in turn, mirroring his daughter's actions, but the old marquis interrupts before he can manage a single syllable of his carefully chosen words. "You run along now, little princess, and take your friends with you." As though he's about to embark on a grand adventure, Eldebury proclaims with fervor, "We men have a royal coup to plot!"


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The magical canines mentioned in this chapter are borrowed from the Harry Potter series. I'm sure Mr. Potter won't mind.

* * *

**Elyria**

**Thorncrest Hall**

**Present Day**

Robin holds the door to the north parlor open, ushering the others out into the second-floor corridor in compliance with his father-in-law's request. When his mother is the last one through, he quickly falls into step with his wife, shaking his head in amusement.

"You shouldn't be surprised," Regina informs him discreetly. "I told you the marquis was aware of a great deal more than the household staff here give him credit for."

Robin chuckles as he nods. "I suppose you were half right… Little princess."

The queen's scowl of disapproval is repugnant. "Don't make me long for the days when people called me evil."

Robin raises an eyebrow in mild shock. "You don't, do you? Not really?"

"Hell, yes." Regina starts with a hiss. "Sometimes." She shrugs. "At least when people called me evil, there was no underlying tone of condescension."

"I don't think he meant it that way, milady. I think, he has at least a few fond memories of his friend's precocious child. I think it was a cantankerous old man's attempt at being sweet."

Regina nudges his shoulder with rough affection. "Alright, but don't look at me like that!"

Robin shrugs, feigning innocence. "Like what?"

"Like your picturing me two feet shorter, with messy hair, missing baby teeth, wearing a lopsided tutu and ballet slippers."

Robin shakes his head, grinning ear to ear. "Nah. Of course not, love. I'm sure a black leotard was more your style."

Grimacing to keep from smiling, Regina stalks away from him with her cloak snapping sharply at her heels. "I'm going to Oz. Do not follow me." Turning her head only slightly, she calls over her shoulder, "Aradia?"

Calmly, the older woman steps to her side. "Yes, Your Majesty?"

"Care to join me?"

Aradia shakes her head. "I thank you for the invitation, nevertheless, I believe I would prefer to wait here."

Regina pauses her departure only slightly. "I was under the impression you were eager to meet my sister."

"Yes of course. But it's not as if she's expecting my arrival. What happens if your sister is less eager than I? If that is the case, my presence will make everyone involved rather uncomfortable; will it not?"

Regina thinks back to her own initial meeting with Zelena and chooses not to wince as she nods approvingly. "That's probably a wise decision. Dropping in on Zelena unexpectedly can have dire consequences. Our own first meeting was rather…" Regina chooses the word with selective deliberation. "Inauspicious… but she has evolved somewhat since."

Aradia chuckles with polite uncertainty. "You make her sound like some sort of prehistoric creature."

Regina's eyes widen with devilish merriment as she waves goodbye and then reaches for her mother-in-law's hand. "When I met her, she looked like one." she declares the instant before she disappears from sight with only the soft swish of her cloak; leaving Aradia open-mouthed and on the verge of raising her next question.

* * *

**Oz**

**Emerald City**

**Present Day**

The evening sun shines softly, casting a shimmering effect over all it touches; especially that which is gilded or emerald in color. Even the grand stone wall surrounding the palace courtyard has delicate veins of malachite running through it to dazzle anyone fortunate enough to lay eyes upon it with its fiery green glow.

Arriving just beyond the open gates, Regina holds tight to Norah's hand, having felt it slip gently into hers the very instant before she magically departed from Elyria's Thorncrest Hall. Quickly making certain that Beatrice arrived safely as well, Regina glowers comically at the uninvited person standing beside the older woman.

"I distinctly remember telling you not to follow me."

Wholly unconcerned, Robin straightens his spine and squares his shoulders as he lets go of his mother's hand. "I know. I heard you. I thought about it…" He flashes his best smile. "and then I decided to do otherwise."

"Humph!" Regina exhales in exasperation as she starts for the gates.

"Humph, what?" Robin falls into step with her as Beatrice and Norah follow closely behind.

"Does it ever occur to you, that following me, especially when you've been told not to, will get you into trouble?"

Robin shrugs. "Following you would get anyone into trouble, mi'lady."

"Doesn't seem to be much of a deterrent in your case."

"It's nowhere I haven't been before. I can make my way through. Besides, we discussed this. I'm not leaving you alone."

"I'm not alone. Your mother is here. Aradia is just a shout away and we came here to see Zelena. What trouble are you expecting that you don't think I can handle on my own?"

"Regina, I will leave you alone to single-handedly dispatch an entire troop of bloodthirsty furies before I'll leave you alone with your sister… And what do you mean, Aradia is just a shout away? We left her in Elyria."

"She's part goddess. Gods are omnipotent. She's ever-present. It's not even Norah's birthday, but If something happens and I do go into labor, all I have to do is scream. She'll show up."

"She's only a demigoddess," Robin argues on the side of logic. "One who, by her own admission, has been cast down from Olympus. You didn't even ask her why. What if she doesn't have powers of omnipotence? Or, what if they were stripped when she was banished?"

"We've only just met her, Robin. I don't know her well enough to invade her privacy that way. Until she decides she wants to tell me about it, her banishment is none of my business. If she can't get here, your mother is here. I'm fine." Regina stops and glances down at her attire with a slight frown. "Except for my ensemble."

Robin squints in confusion at the stylish maternity garb she wears when she tosses her traveling cloak over one shoulder. "What is wrong with your clothes?"

Feeling that it should be obvious, Regina gestures not only to her own comfortable clothing but to each of theirs as well. "Can't you hear the voices? Obviously, Zelena decided to take advantage of the late summer sunshine and fair temperature. She's holding court outside this evening. Our clothes are fine for traveling, which we spent most of the day doing, but I will not stand before any royal court dressed this way, and neither will the three of you."

Norah giggles discreetly when, with a wave of her mother's hand, her father is suddenly attired in a much finer and unmistakably less threadbare version of his usual Sherwood forest attire. Stiff new leather trousers and vest and a fine linen tunic instantly replace his current best ensemble. The best cloak he owns is likewise, immediately replaced by one made of lightweight summer wool that is a dark mossy shade of green. His boots are magically shined and polished to perfection. His old knapsack and quiver are replaced with new counterparts crafted in hand-tooled leather.

Mildly uncomfortable with the rapid and magical redressing, he almost grimaces until he glances down at her choices. Wrinkling his nose slightly, he shrugs. "Not too bad. A little fancy, but at least I still look like me."

Regina chuckles. "Who did you expect to look like? Jude Law?"

Robin squints comically. "I don't know who that is. I only meant that thankfully you didn't put me in a monkey suit.… Or whatever passes for a monkey suit in this realm. You chose clothing I might have picked out for myself."

"Monkey suit?" Beatrice asks with a bewildered expression.

Norah clarifies things for her "Storybrooke's version of men's formal attire. 'Monkey suit' is slang for something more formally known as a tuxedo, but that would be considered inappropriate in this instance. Aunt Zelena is holding court, Daddy, not hosting a royal gala. The idea here is to arrive dressed in one's Sunday best; provided of course that it is appropriate for this realm."

Regina nods her approval. "Remind me to thank Snow for teaching you how to dress appropriately in my absence."

Norah nods but raises an eyebrow curiously. "How do you know it was Snow who taught me?"

"Educated guess," Regina says simply as she turns her focus to Beatrice. With the snap of her fingers, Robin's mother is newly attired in a simple tawny colored sheath, but even before the older woman can wrinkle her brow in doubt, Regina shakes her head, changes her mind, and instantly replaces it with a dress of the same slim-fitting style but in a much more flattering shade of pale silver with delicate lace accents in a striking shade of cobalt blue at the waist and hemlines. "Better?"

Beatrice nods with obvious pleasure. "Thank you. The first was very nice but…"

Regina nods. "Copper is the wrong color for your skin tone… too orange. This is much better. Brings out both your eyes, and the natural highlights in your hair."

She turns her focus to Norah and repeats the process, this time coming up with horseback riding attire. the form-fitting trousers and low-heeled boots are a soft heather gray and the beaded blouse and matching ankle-length overcoat a vibrant, nearly pink shade of magenta.

"Did I get the color right?"

Norah offers a soft radiant smile as she nods eagerly. "It's perfect… Only, do I have to pin my hair back in these combs." She touches the elegant silver accessories nestled in her hair at the sides of her head self-consciously.

Regina shakes her head after only a second's hesitation. "I think they're very flattering, but if you don't like them, you don't have to wear them,"

"I don't want the bother of long hair, but I keep it just long enough to cover my ears on purpose."

Regina squints." Why? What's wrong with your ears?"

"They're too big for my face. They stick out."

Regina chuckles wryly and queries, "Too big for your face? Of all the ridiculous things I've ever heard! Your ears are most certainly not too big for your face. Norah, you have your father's ears. You have perfect ears. You have absolutely no reason to hide them."

Norah grimaces with uncertainty. "You really think so?"

Regina nods adamantly. "Stand up straight. Don't slouch. Tummy in, shoulders back, chin up, and if you really think people spend an inordinate amount of time looking at your ears, then give them something dazzling to look at." With a second wave of her hand, Regina complements the combs in her daughter's hair with a matching set of earrings with miniature, yet vibrant, teardrop shaped pink opals dangling demurely from their shimmering silver settings.

Stepping closer, Regina extracts the small compact mirror from the pocket of her own skirt and passes it to her self-conscious daughter. "I'll change anything you want me to, but you look gorgeous. See for yourself."

Taking the small looking glass in hand, Norah smiles hesitantly at her own reflection. "How do you know just what to do? Make-up never looks this good if I do it myself, Mom."

"Knowing what will be most appealing is something that comes with time and lots of experimenting. You'll get there if you want to. We can talk about it later if you like."

Norah nods with quiet enthusiasm as Regina magically alters her own attire to a floor-length ruby gown complete with a spectacularly plunging neckline, a braided gold band nestled just below her cleavage at the empire waist that does absolutely nothing to conceal her condition at this late date, and a stunning slit up the left side of the skirt that travels provocatively from heel to hip.

Beatrice clamps her lips together forcefully to keep her jaw from hitting the ground and clears her throat before she dares to speak. Shaking her head in amazement, she breathes quietly. "I know very few women who can legitimately get away with wearing a dress like that even when they are not expecting. You, without a doubt, are the only one I've ever met who can carry it off fearlessly nine months along. I take it you're planning on making an entrance that won't soon be forgotten."

Regina smiles coolly. "I always do."

Taking the compact from her daughter's outstretched hand, Regina drops it into the delicately beaded drawstring clutch that complements not only her elegant frock, but also the stunning ruby and gold accessory that holds in place an intricate up-do so complicated that it would have taken even the most acclaimed hair stylist hours to create. Taking the lead, she sashays toward the open gate with Robin and Norah each a half-step behind; Robin to the left and Norah to the right with Beatrice last in line. Just before she steps through, the guard, who's left shoulder is visible from beyond the gate, turns, intending to slow the progress of whomever he meets.

One look at Regina and he stammers wordlessly, his eyes going wide so fast that for an instant, she thinks this mute soldier in his imperial guard uniform might pass out.

Caught helplessly, like a deer in headlights, in that ephemeral place between magnetism and fear, the guard stares weak-kneed and trembling, half unaware that his gaze is fixed upon the queen's cleavage until Robin clears his throat; half annoyed, half amused by the poor fellow's stricken state of mind. Immediately, his gaze jumps to her face and then skitters nervously to the ground at her feet.

"I… I… B… Beg your pardon, Your Majesty. I…"

Before he can offer the feeble apology trembling on his lips, Regina offers him the slightest of perfunctory smiles. "I'm here to see the empress."

The guard's gaze travels to the spear at the northern end of his staff. For a protracted second, he looks as if he'd rather impale himself than speak his next words.

"You look as though you're having a hard time making a decision." Regina prods him coolly.

He nods immediately.

"Perhaps I can help speed the process along."

He squints and shakes his head emphatically. "That's d…doubtful…M…m…ajesty."

"Well, what seems to be the problem?"

"If… Well, you see, if I let you in there, the empress is probably going to turn me into one of her winged pets. I think I'd rather not become one. I've heard tell that the fleas are murder. On the other hand; if I don't let you in there…" He gulps, his adam's apple bobbing nervously as he involuntarily covers his heart with his right hand.

Regina purses her lips and nods ever so slightly. "That's quite a dilemma."

"Is… Is the empress ex… Expecting you?" He queries hopefully.

"No… but she is my sister."

"Your sis… sister?"

"Yes, that's right. We're family."

"Oh, well then, she likes you." He says, still hoping.

Regina laughs wryly. "Not usually."

The contradictory statement only serves to puzzle the poor man even more than the sudden unexpected appearance of the evil queen.

"Look, from what I can hear, I know court is in session. I'm going to attend. If you let me in there, I can't promise you she's not going to turn you into a flying primate, but I have no interest in harming you. So, why don't you just stand aside."

The guard squints, suspecting subterfuge. "You're not going to hurt me?"

"No."

Confused, he stammers inanely. "Why not?"

Regina raises a dark eyebrow and stares at him the way a cat stares at a moth trapped by a window screen. "Would you prefer that I did?"

He shakes his head with erratic vigor. "Of course not. I only meant… What's changed?"

Reaching out, placing a gentle but dismissive hand on his shoulder, Regina shoos him aside before she steps into the courtyard telling him discreetly over her shoulder, "That would be me."

The heads of those seated or standing nearest the gate began to turn one by one and although no one has the audacity to speak at first, a collective gasp is heard as Regina makes her way up the center aisle until she finds a ½ dozen unoccupied seats grouped together twenty feet from the dais where her sister and niece are seated on gilded thrones that are nearly identical to one another.

Easily two feet above the heads of either occupant, the uppermost portion of the backrest on each throne displays the emerald-encrusted imperial seal for the land of Oz. The only difference between the two thrones is that the one Eliana is perched upon is marginally smaller than her mother's.

Regina motions for Beatrice and Norah to step into the row and be seated before her and as Norah takes her seat she offers her cousin a very discreet but excited little wave of acknowledgement. Bored with the proceedings at hand, Eliana does a good job of appearing to listen; her chin resting casually in the crook between the thumb and forefinger of her right hand, while what she's really doing is holding her head up, hoping people don't realize she's moments away from falling asleep. Only a select few among the audience notice her slight smile or the seemingly insignificant flexing of the two fingers resting against her cheek as she silently acknowledges Norah's greeting. Of those, fewer still recognize either gesture as unspoken communication.

Crossing her legs as she takes her own seat, Regina leaves the chair closest to the aisle to Robin, whom she knows will insist on being seated there anyway because as more and more heads turn their way, the retired thief surveys the heavily packed courtyard and all its occupants with the guarded concern of a man who feels honor-bound to protect his women; all three of them.

As observation begins to give way to whispered speculation and the low hum of anxious voices begins to rise on the evening breeze, The Empress of Oz reclaims the attention of her audience for herself by pointedly clearing her throat. "Honestly? Not a single person in this courtyard has ever seen a woman in a red dress before?" Zelena turns her piercing blue eyes to her younger sister. "Hello Regina. How nice of you to drop in unannounced and bring the entire proceeding to a fearful yet scintillating halt."

Refusing to be chastised, Regina lifts one shoulder in an unrepentant shrug. "I do what I can."

"Yes, well… Where were we? Who's next?"

A dark-haired dwarf dressed so sharply that he might be called dapper if it weren't for the fact that his suit is ten years out of fashion rises slowly to his feet and approaches the dais as fast as his, short bowed legs will allow. He tugs at his suit vest nervously as though his current choice of attire is not worn daily and therefore feels unfamiliar against his skin. He pushes the half-moon spectacles resting awkwardly on the bridge of a broad flat nose that resembles the bill of a platypus up a little higher with the thick stubby forefinger of his left hand. "If it please the court, I believe I am, Empress."

"And who are you?"

"My name is Alpheus… Alpheus Sturgeon."

"What matter have you brought before the court this evening, Mr. Sturgeon?"

"I've come to request a ruling, Your Grace. You see, my neighbor, Mr. Atwater, he frequently allows a dog he calls Sultan to wander about freely. As a result, Sultan has had his way with my Sadie…"

Alpheus Sturgeon pauses for, but otherwise quietly ignores the sudden bursts of laughter that rise on the evening air. He continues only when the crowd around him is silent once more.

"She's had a litter of pups and Mr. Atwater wants them all destroyed. There are nine of them and the registration fees alone are going to be exorbitant. I cannot assume financial responsibility for them all. I would do so gladly if my income allowed for it. Alas, I'm afraid, it does not. However, I am willing to find them each a good home, but it will take time to make this happen. Mr. Atwater shouldn't be allowed to have them destroyed before I can accomplish this simply because he finds their pedigree offensive."

Zelena scowls incredulously. "You're asking me to rule over the mating habits of dogs?"

Sturgeon chuckles nervously. "Why, no. Of course not, Empress. Even if you are willing, any such ruling would be impossible to enforce. I would not waste your time or mine asking you to preside over their mating habits… Only the right to live the lives which they've already been given. They're harmless innocent creatures who don't deserve to be put to death simply because one man finds their existence disagreeable."

Zelena sighs, clearly irritated with the issue even as her daughter leans forward on the deep green velvet cushion in her seat; lending her full attention to the matter at hand for the first time since the court opened.

"Is Mr. Atwater here?"

A lean tall man with sandy hair rises effortlessly to his feet and tucks his silver pocket watch out of sight in the inner pocket of an obviously pricey custom-tailored suit jacket. "I am Samuel Atwater." He says with the deep confident voice of a natural orator.

"And the two of you… You could not reach a compromise regarding this matter on your own? You had to bring this drivel before my court?"

"I beg your pardon, Empress. I only came to represent my interests. The choice to be here today and bring this minor matter before you, lies solely with Mr. Sturgeon. Were it not for his insistence, I would not dare to waste your time with such utter nonsense.”

For a fleeting moment, Zelena seriously considers tossing the pair of them and their ridiculous squabble out of her courtyard, until she realizes that her daughter is actively listening to the proceedings for the very first time. Until now, Eliana has barely managed to avoid yawning. Pleased that she's finally showing a spark of interest, Zelena quickly turns to her; deciding to actively engage her daughter in the process.

"What would you suggest?"

Caught off guard, for a moment the girl simply stalls, uncertain that the question was really meant for her. When her mother nods encouragement, she opens her mouth to speak but before she can decide how best to respond, Samuel Atwater interrupts with incredulity.

"Empress, you can't be serious. You intend to let this girl decide what happens? She's little more than a child, this matter should be taken seriously."

Zelena's spine becomes rigid as her blue eyes come alive with fury. "Mr. Atwater, you will close your mouth at once! You will not speak again unless you are required to do so. This girl who is, by your own estimation, little more than a child, is my daughter and as such, she is the Grand Duchess of Oz. One day, my throne will be hers and you will treat her accordingly! If you cannot do that, then you can leave this courtyard at once and I will rule in favor of Mr. Sturgeon without hearing another word on this preposterous matter!"

While both Sam Atwater's and Alpheus Sturgeon's eyes widen in shock, Zelena nods to her daughter again.

"She's your daughter?" Atwater stammers before he can restrain himself.

"That is what I said. Is there something wrong with your hearing, Mr. Atwater?"

"No, Empress. I was simply unaware. My apologies."

"Your apologies are neither wanted, nor appreciated. Be quiet Mr. Atwater!" Zelena barks with hostility before softening her voice, "Eliana, darling, the floor is yours."

In personally uncharted territory, Eliana pauses for a long beat before she shrugs and admits, "I can't make a sound decision. Not on the scant information I have at this point. I need the two of you to answer some questions first."

Samuel Atwater sighs grudgingly while Alpheus Sturgeon patiently nods.

"I suppose, first, I want to know if there's any question at all as to whether or not Mr. Atwater's dog was responsible?"

Sturgeon shakes his head. "Sadie is always accompanied when she is allowed out of my backyard. Mr. Atwater's dog is also the only dog in our neighborhood that is registered with the Ministry of Magic. You see, Duchess, Sultan is a duly licensed crup and clearly recognizable as one to all non-magical folk because. Mr. Atwater hasn't seen fit to have the forked portion of his tail surgically removed in order to conceal his identity as a magical creature. Sadie has birthed nine puppies. Six of them resemble Jack Russell terriers as do most crups. All but three of them have the trademark forked tail. Only two of them more closely resembles my Sadie, a West Highland terrier, that was gifted to me last year, and even the two that do resemble Sadie more closely have the extremely heightened instincts and intelligence that are commonly associated with crups. Even Mr. Atwater does not deny they were sired by his dog."

Atwater sighs as if he's bored. "I will stipulate; there is no question regarding the paternity of these mutts. They, albeit regrettably, were sired by my dog, Sultan."

"And do you, as Mr. Sturgeon claims, wish to have them euthanized?"

"Euthanized? I am not familiar with that word, Duchess."

"Do you wish to have them put to sleep; killed?"

"I wish they'd never been brought into existence in the first place."

"But they have been. It's too late to put the cork back in the bottle Mr. Atwater. The wine has already been spilled."

"I realize that."

"And your solution, at this point, is to end their lives? Why? What have they done to you?"

"As Mr. Sturgeon said, I do indeed find the very existence of these mutts repugnant. And I'll make no apology for it."

Eliana nods slightly and, suspecting he will condemn himself; she metaphorically hands him the shovel with which to dig his own grave. "Why is that Mr. Atwater?"

"They are filthy half-breeds, not worthy of their father's prestigious pedigree. They are highly offensive."

"Mr. Atwater, suppose I told you that I find both your words and the mouth you use to speak them highly offensive? Is it, therefore, permissible for me to put you to death?"

Stunned and angry, Samuel Atwater bellows his objection. "Of course not! I'm a human being!"

Eliana glares. "Who told you that your life was more valuable than your dog's?"

Laughter explodes inside the courtyard.

Eliana waits 10 seconds. When the laughter doesn't die down, she calmly rises to her feet; her blue and jade colored gown shimmering brilliantly in the late evening sunlight.

The courtyard falls silent in an instant.

"Mr. Sturgeon's dog is not a magical creature. She's no more than a common mutt. Sultan is a purebred crup, and he's clearly recognizable as one."

"Does he, as Mr. Sturgeon alleges, roam free?"

"From time to time, yes. He's never hurt anyone. He doesn't even turn over trash cans. So, I see no reason to keep him penned up."

"And he chose to mate with Mr. Sturgeon's Westie, Sadie, without the benefit of an agreement between the two of you? How curious…"

"He's a dog. He didn't consult me first, young lady!"

Eliana holds up a hand, quickly, yet quietly, forestalling her mother's angry wrath. Halfway to her feet, Zelena relents, giving her daughter the opportunity, she wants; the opportunity to defend herself.

"Well, clearly your dog has no objection to Sadie's pedigree. Why should you."

Atwater stares incredulously for a long beat before he growls in hostility. "Mr. Sturgeon's bitch is nothing more than a common flea circus. Sultan is majestic. Royals do not breed with the common dregs of society, lay-abouts, and outlaws. It simply isn't done. It's disgraceful!"

Much to Samuel Atwater's consternation, Eliana throws back her head and laughs, coldly.

"Mr. Atwater, I agreed to hear this matter because I have fond memories of growing up with a puppy named Ember. You don't know this, but she's a very unusual breed. The lovable mutt weighs close to 190 pounds, and she thinks she's a lap dog. For the last 15 years or so, she's been one of the very few bright spots in my father's life, and he spoils her rotten without even the slightest bit of disdain for the fact that, her mother was a common non-magical mutt. Ember's mother was half English spaniel and half Irish setter. Ember's father was a dog of renowned pedigree. A number of years ago he was magically transformed into a Mastiff puppy. Before his transformation, he was my father's three-headed hellhound, Cerberus. My father is Hades, Lord of the underworld."

Eliana instinctively waits for the collective gasp that she knows will reverberate around the courtyard. When it finally dies and floats away on the breeze she queries, "Surely you aren't going to stand before this court and find fault with my father and his assertion that common mutts can be valued, even desired."

Atwater opens his mouth to speak, but the Grand Duchess of Oz cuts him off. "I know none of us has forgotten, but I'd like to remind you, sir, that my Aunt, Queen Regina, her husband, Robin Hood and their daughter, Princess Norah, are with us this evening." Eliana gestures and Regina rises gracefully to her feet. "Mr. Atwater if you want to compare your dog to royalty, I won't stop you, but, if you have anything else you'd like to say about the distastefulness of royal half-breeds, I suggest you say it to her."

The stunned crowd waits with bated breath.

Regina raises a dark eyebrow as Norah comes to her own feet putting herself on display and holding her head high.

The crowd remains mute as Beatrice and Robin also rise; the former dropping an affectionate arm around her granddaughter's shoulders.

Eliana allows the anger she's been restraining to finally put steel into her words. "No? Nothing to say? Come now, Mr. Atwater. Speak up! We can't hear you! Where's the courage of your convictions? They were stout, robust when it came to the lives of mere puppies. But put your own life on the line, and your resolve not only waivers but runs from this courtyard with its tail tucked firmly between its legs. I find you contemptible! You are a week narrow-minded coward Mr. Atwater, and you are excused! I suggest you leave this courtyard as quickly and as quietly as possible before my temper gets the better of me. This court finds in accordance with the wishes of Mr. Alpheus Sturgeon. Sir, you have 90 days to find homes for all the pups in question. The registration fees and the decision to finance the surgical procedures necessary to conceal their identity as magical beings shall be left to their new owners. Ladies and gentlemen, if you're willing to provide a loving home for a puppy in need, regardless of its pedigree, see Mr. Sturgeon after court is adjourned. Mr. Atwater, if anything happens to those puppies before Mr. Sturgeon can find them all suitable homes, I shall be very put out and, you sir, will be held accountable!"

* * *

Half an hour later, Norah flops down on the cushioned window seat in her cousin's lavishly decorated bedroom. Laughing, she declares, "After today, I'm more determined than ever to change the course of our history and get back home."

Tall and willowy, Eliana glances at her reflection in a full-length wall-mounted looking glass and raises an eyebrow for the other girl's benefit. "Why should anything that happened today make you feel any more determined?"

Norah sits up, her spine going painfully rigid "Are you kidding me? I wish you could have seen yourself up there! You were as decisive, authoritative and confident as I've ever seen you, El. You were born for this."

"Oh what, you weren't?"

Norah nods. The difference is, I don't want it."

"Yeah, right!"

"I don't. Not the way you do."

"You will. You met your mother less than a week ago. If this thing works out and you get to keep her – you get to grow up with her, she'll make you want it."

Norah shrugs. "Maybe so, but right now I'm talking about you. We've got to fix this. We've got to fix this and get home so that both of our mothers can live and thereby end your father's self-imposed exile inside that mausoleum he calls a house. He's got to set you free. Here in Oz, you may be the Grand Duchess, but in our world, you've got to go to law school!"

Eliana wrinkles her nose with disdain. "Law school? You want me to spend my days surrounded by criminals?"

"So, you'll go to work for the prosecution rather than the defense. It's only for a few years. It's just a steppingstone to a seat on the bench, Your Honor."

The scowl on Eliana's face softens a bit. "I do like the sound of that."

Norah nods. "Trust me. I know what I'm talking about.

"Norah that's simultaneously the most awesome and the most annoying thing about you. You always know what you're talking about."

"Funny, that sounded like a compliment, but it was loosely wrapped in an insult. Are you calling me a know-it-all?"

"Cousin, if the shoe fits…lace that baby up and wear it all over town."

* * *

In her dressing room, the Empress of Oz stares into a mirror of her own as she removes the elegant feathered headdress penned securely in her hair.

Ignoring the footmen on either side of the door, Regina waltzes in, offering them both a cunning smile as she closes the double doors behind herself, making her desire for privacy known without a single word. Turning, she finds Zelena removing jewelry; and watching her courtesy of the mirror.

"Well, your extended stay in Storybrooke certainly hasn't dulled your ability to steal the show, sister dear."

Wholly unconcerned, Regina shrugs. "Why should it? And Eliana didn't have any trouble reclaiming it for herself. She handled both herself and that situation, like a Mills woman, through and through. I'm very proud of her."

Zelena raises an eyebrow and turns to face her sister, studying her quizzically.

"What?"

Zelena tips her head to one, side remaining silent for a moment longer before she admits, "What you just said - it could be taken as either a compliment or an insult."

Allowing the words to replay in her own mind, Regina nods. "It could, couldn't it? I doubt Mother would find it very complimentary - her granddaughter showing mercy, but it was intended that way."

Zelena nods. "So, you haven't come here to pick a fight?"

Regina chuckles wryly and shakes her head. "I don't pick fights. I finish them."

Zelena makes a serious effort not to roll her eyes. "So, why are you here? What's the matter? Get bored watching your ill-equipped husband try to impress his mummy?"

Still chuckling, Regina wags her index finger. "See, right there. That's what I'm talking about. You pick fights. Without waiting for her sister to respond, Regina continues. "First, Robin can handle himself. I have every confidence. Second, she's not his mother. She's just the woman who gave birth to him."

"Like Emma and Henry?"

Regina shakes her head. "That may have once been true, but no more. Emma showed up. Emma stayed. No matter how hard I tried to run her off, and believe me, I tried. She stayed for Henry. She's as much his mother as I am. That's not the case with Robin and the marchioness. That is an entirely different situation. She did the same thing to Robin that Cora did to you… well, without the giant green tornado."

Zelena's laughter is formless and devoid of humor. "Cora always had to top everyone… That's where you learned it."

Regina lifts her palms to the air and glides across the room to a chaise lounge, spinning like a runway model on a catwalk as she goes.

"Okay, so you didn't come to fight..."

Regina sits and crosses her legs. "And I'm never bored watching Robin."

"So, why are you here? I thought you had more than enough going to keep you busy."

"I came here to tell you that I just met your paternal grandmother…"


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm well aware that it is widely held that Zeus and Jupiter are the same god. Zeus is simply Greek, while Jupiter is considered to be his Roman equivalent. Consider yourself informed; I'm drawing a line between the two.
> 
> It irritates and confuses me every time I try to understand why two different groups of people must give the same being different names. So, for the purposes of this story, and in support of this particular alternate universe, from this point forward, please adjust your brains and assume that Zeus and Jupiter are two different beings who are part of the same family, otherwise, the incest is just going to become mind-boggling.
> 
> Quite honestly, Rebecca Mader, with her looks, could have easily played the part of Persephone, who according to Greek mythology was the love interest of Hades and also his niece but OUAT lead with the Wicked Witch angle and Persephone fell by the wayside.

* * *

**Oz**

**Emerald City**

**Present Day**

Regina watches a myriad of emotions play across her sister's face. Some of them are clearly recognizable, uncertainty, doubt, dread, anger, curiosity. Others are harder to discern, and she wonders which one Zelena will lead with.

Zelena mentally flounders as she silently tries to rearrange her sister's words in a way that makes sense, because 'I came to tell you that I just met your grandmother.' Somehow doesn't compute. She simply must've heard wrong. She waits for Regina to acknowledge this – to somehow correct herself. When it doesn't happen, she blurts. "That's not possible."

Regina tries not to sigh as she thinks sarcastically, "Oh good, I thought this was going to be difficult."

"I don't have a paternal grandmother. How could I? I don't have a father."

"Of course, you do. Everyone does."

"Really? Where's he'd been all my life? The redhead hisses bitterly.

"Don't confuse 'father' with 'dad'. They are two very different words with two very different meanings, Zelena. Any fool with the appropriate functioning anatomy and the will to sin can be a father. We all have one of those. It takes somebody special to stick around and be a dad."

"Rub it in, why don't you?"

This time, Regina does sigh, "That wasn't my intent. You got a bum deal in the paternity department. This is not news. We both know this. However, like every other human being, your father has a mother, and she's eager to meet you."

"Well then, where has she been all my life?"

"Apparently, she knew only that there was the possibility of a child. She didn't know if you were a girl or a boy. She didn't even know for sure that you had been born."

"Why didn't she tried to find out?"

"I don't know that she didn't. Maybe you should ask her that question. She certainly in a better position to know the answer."

Zelena shakes her head, tossing her red curls about erratically. "Wait – back up. You just happened to meet her?"

Regina nods. "I'm pretty sure."

"Define pretty sure."

"99.7%." Regina states confidently. "If she's not your grandmother, it's going to be mind-boggling."

"More mind-boggling than the fact that you just happen to cross paths with her?"

Regina nods again just as adamantly. "She looks like you. She even sounds like you. Well, technically I guess it's you who looks, and sounds like her. but…"

Zelena shakes her head. "Lots of people look like each other."

Regina shakes her own head. "Not like this, they don't. I'm telling you, it's unfathomable. 100 years from now, your reflection will be indistinguishable from hers.

Zelena laughs harshly. "Regina, 100 years from now I will be dead."

"I'm not so sure of that. She probably won't be either."

"Well, now you are just talking crazy. Should I have you fitted for a jewel encrusted straitjacket? She's got to be pushing 90, Regina. That is, if she truly is my grandmother. Where did you find this woman anyway?"

"Remember Alan, who stepped through the portal in the middle of Main Street with Beatrice? Well, he's one of the Merry Men. She's a friend of his. Apparently, she's also trained as a midwife. Robin and Alan got together and decided they should request her assistance just to be on the safe side; in case we don't finish up here in Elyria before I go into labor."

"I thought Beatrice was a midwife?"

"Yes, but Robin is nervous. Beatrice isn't magical, and both his wife and daughter are. He's trying to stack the deck in our favor."

Zelena shrugs. "I can't blame him for that, I suppose. Hades would certainly do the same thing if he were in Robin's posi – wait, does that mean she is magical?"

Regina nods slowly. "Actually, she's a bit more than just magical."

Zelena raises an eyebrow. "What do you mean more than magical?"

"She's a demigoddess."

Zelena squints, the infinitesimal hint of a smile curving her lips until she shakes her head. "That can't be right."

"Why can't it? It would certainly go a long way toward explaining how you were able to carry Eliana as well as you did."

Zelena's jaw drops.

"Mortal women do not carry the children of gods without severe complications. You know that."

"You have gone mad. You have completely lost your mind! Either that or someone has slipped you the world's most impressive forgetting potion. I would endure it all over again tomorrow for Eliana, but that pregnancy was agony - nothing less than pure agony."

"Largely because of the Rh complication; the incompatibility between your blood and Hades'. Zelena, that's a human malady, not a godly one. You would've had that problem even if he were boringly human. Any of the more supernatural complications you suffered were minimal compared to other women."

"There was never any indication that Jonathan was anything other than human. I'm certain Cora would have mentioned it had she known otherwise. His being a magical being might've made him less unappealing once she learned the truth about him. His being the son of a demigoddess certainly would have been of great interest to her." Regina shrugs, "Either she didn't know, or…"

"Or what?" "You know as well as I do that it is possible for a magical being to give birth to a non-magical child."

"But a demigoddess? Regina?"

Regina purses her lips and shrugs. "You'll have to ask her if you want to know all there is to know."

"Gods are omnipotent. Therefore, I fail to see how she wouldn't have known about me."

"Yes, but maybe not those who are half human. Or, perhaps she lost her omnipotent status as some form of punishment."

"Punishment for what?"

"I don't know. She did mention, however, that she has been cast down from Olympus."

"Why?"

"I just met her. Asking why would have been a violation of her privacy."

A soft, yet radiant, light begins to shine in Zelena's eyes. "They have too many rules to count up there. She must've broken one of them."

"That's likely."

"She must've angered your pal, Zeus."

"Maybe they had a disagreement and she told him to go screw himself. It could've been anything, Zelena."

Zelena giggles with delight. "You think so. I would pay to see someone do that."

Regina rolls her eyes. "She's ladylike, but not so much so that I would call her demure. It certainly doesn't prevent her from speaking her mind."

"Then she should fit right in. What's her name?"

"Aradia Crowley."

"Aradia?" Zelena raises an eyebrow. "What kind of name is Aradia?"

"The one she was given, I suppose."

"Smart ass."

"Do you want to go meet her, or not."

"Can't I have a minute to think about it?"

"Sure. While you're thinking about it, you might consider giving her a fair chance before you decide to annihilate her."

Zelena smirks. "I'm not at all convinced this woman you met is my grandmother. I am not part goddess."

"You should meet her and then decide for yourself, but I never thought I would hear you deny that particular possibility. I thought you would jump on the chance to claim it."

Zelena flashes her smile. "Not that I wouldn't love to. But I've never done anything godly – not even by accident."

"Oh no? I put myself in a coma playing with Mother's wand. You heal me without even being told how to do it. No instruction at all, you did it simply because you wanted to…" Regina raises an eyebrow.

"Then why wasn't I able to fight the effects of her forgetting potion?"

"Less intense situation. Less 'spur of the moment.' Untrained magical children most commonly respond in extreme situations – situations that stir emotional reactions. You forgot, but you didn't know you had forgotten. There was no stress involved."

Zelena nods but then scowls. "Does this mean that Hades and I are related?"

Regina wrinkles her nose as she nods. "Loosely. Different branch of the family tree. Distant cousins twice removed or some such thing. You can research the genealogy if you want. Though, I'm sure the task will be an undertaking. With brothers who like to marry their sisters, I'm sure it's going to get confusing rather quickly. Aradia said her mother is Selene, the moon goddess, her parents were Jupiter and Latona, if Henry's book on Roman mythology had it correctly. Aradia's father was a man by the name of Abraham, a dark priest of legendary acclaim."

"Quite the bloodline."

"A rather impressive not to mention, potent, mix of dark and light; but then, I haven't come across any middling witches in our bloodlines, no matter which team they decided to play for."

"I wish I could talk to Hades about this. Can I have the night to make up my mind?"

"Of course, I need to rest anyway. It's been a long day."

* * *

One hour later, Sherwood's most renowned denizen steps into a private bedchamber rubbing his freshly scrubbed face and neck with a plush black towel and grimacing slightly in response to the room's opulent décor, which was set in place at a moment's notice courtesy of magic. The walls are painted a muted color of molten gold. The furnishings are crafted in a dark rich cherry and nearly anything that can be covered or upholstered is draped in black satin that shimmers in the candlelight, the same way the ocean tides sparkle in the moonlight. "Oh well," He frowns. "At least everything in sight isn't green."

"Be nice." His wife chastises lightly as she slips beneath black satin sheets. "Green is her color. She was attempting to make me comfortable. I know she missed the mark with the décor but, at least she tried. She's come a long way."

"I realize that." He declares, talking over his shoulder as he rummages through his knapsack. "But Regina, this is overkill. Golden walls, white candles everywhere, and black satin draped over everything stationary. Any moment now those white candles are going to start dripping blood and a ritual sacrifice is going to be made and offered up to the prince of darkness."

Her gaze swiveling around the room, Regina chuckles wryly. "It does look like something out of a 1940s horror flick, doesn't it?"

He smiles, more amused than annoyed and complains, "Do you have to sound as though you're enjoying this?"

"Hey, I don't care what the room looks like. I care that the mattress is comfortable. I'm tired. Half an hour from now I will be asleep, and it won't matter what the room looks like. But…" She smiles in invitation and pats the empty space on the bed beside her. "If it bothers you, you can come sleep over here beside me. I won't let the prince of darkness or his evil brethren have you."

Groaning in frustration, Robin declares, "We have got to stop watching old horror movies with Henry."

"What's wrong? You are not this annoyed over a quirky conversation or the slightly spooky décor."

"Slightly?"

"Robin…" Regina says with exaggerated patience. "What's wrong? if 'spooky' really bothered you this much, you wouldn't be married to me?"

"I can't find my toothbrush."

"I don't see how you find anything in that bag of yours."

"This isn't my satchel. You gave me a new one, remember? The one I had wasn't good enough to gain entry to the courtyard. Are you sure you transferred all my things when you gave me this new one?"

"Well, of course, I'm sure. Is a new bag really so awful? The old one was held together with patches."

"Yes, but at least I could find things, milady. Everything had its place."

"Mea Culpa. It's my fault. I lost your toothbrush!"

"That's not what I meant. I like the new satchel. I didn't mean to accuse you, it's just…"

"Oh, here! Let me…" Regina tosses back the sheet and swings her legs over the side of the bed. However, before her feet find the floor, her husband's missing toothbrush magically appears in her right hand.

Confused and mildly startled, she frowns at it. "How did…"

"How did what?" Robin turns, offering her his full attention. "My toothbrush! How did you get it? Can you call for things without knowing exactly where they are?"

Regina nods feeling slightly dazed and relinquishes his toothbrush. "I can, but it requires concentration, it requires actual thought. I didn't… It just…" She flexes her fingers as if she can still feel the scant weight of the toothbrush resting against them.

Swallowing all that is left of his mild irritation, Robin flashes his smile and joins her on the bed momentarily. "Is this like when you point at something and accidentally blow up the toaster oven; another pregnancy-related magical misfire?"

He watches her automatically shake her head and then he watches her eyes widen thoughtfully. "I don't know. Maybe." Upon second thought, she shakes her head again. "No, I don't think so. "That happens completely without forethought. This isn't exactly the same thing, Robin. I mean, I didn't intend for it to happen, but we were talking about the toothbrush. I didn't call for it, but it was on my mind. That's not the case when I accidentally blow things up. That literally is a misfire, and unintended negative consequence, a temporary overload, or mismanagement, of power. This was something positive; an acquisition not an expulsion."

"You think it has anything to do with where we are? This place is practically drowning in magic."

Regina shrugs. "I don't think so. I mean, I understand why you're asking. I have been in places where I do experience either a magical boost or a somewhat diminished capability. This doesn't feel like either."

"Does it feel bad?"

"No. The pull isn't that intense. It's not that tantalizing."

He studies her for a quick beat. "You make it sound like a seduction."

She touches his face affectionately. "Darkness is seductive… Always. It's not something you suddenly stumble into without warning. It draws you in, beckons to you, romances you. It thrills you. This isn't that."

"So, not bad?"

Regina shakes her head. "Don't think so."

Robin places a warm hand tenderly against her belly. "Is it her?"

Regina laughs softly and places her hand over his. "Norah, your Daddy thinks you're a superstar." To him, she says, "Robin, even if she can hear us talking, she may recognize our voices, but she has no idea what we're saying. She has no idea what a toothbrush is. At least, not yet."

He smiles and kisses her belly through the delicate silky material of her nightgown. "Maybe not. But she is magical, and at this moment, she is literally, physically, connected to you, and you do know what a toothbrush is."

"With only days left to go until her birth, she probably is fully developed - at least to a point consistent with newborns. But she isn't born yet, Robin. Her powers are not that strong. I don't think they would be even if you and I were both magical. And, even if they were, she would still need time to learn how to control them. Before that, she would need time just to understand that she can control them."

Robin nods but persists, "Right. She can't accurately control her own powers, much less yours, but she can tap into them. She can unintentionally cause your power to malfunction. Even before they are able to speak, Regina, non-magical babies learn rather quickly to exert what little control they have over their environment and the people around them. 'Let's see. if I'm hungry, I cry, and that nice 'mama' person feeds me.' We teach them through consistency and repetition, and they learn to react accordingly to wants and needs."

"And you think that because she's magical, she's tapping into both my understanding and my power because… Daddy wants his toothbrush? Robin, if that's true, she will be ready for Mensa before she starts kindergarten."

"Of course, she will. She's a smart little princess."

Regina rolls her eyes. "Go brush your teeth."

Still smiling, Robin leaves the bed, and steps into their private water closet. Regina pulls the sheet, and the blankets back up around herself and settles into the pillows. "Norah, I think your daddy has spent too much time in the woods."

"I heard that!" He calls out, his words muffled by his toothbrush.

Despite the fact that he can't see her from his current location, Regina shrugs, wholly unconcerned.

"I heard that too, Your Majesty."

Moments later, when he returns, he finds her out of bed and slipping into the elegant dressing gown that complements what's underneath. He raises an eyebrow. "I thought you were tired, milady."

"I am. I'm also hungry. I'm going down to the kitchens to see if I can find any fresh fruit."

"Get back in bed. I'll go." Robin steps to the door, but before he can turn the knob, the small table in the room is magically laid with a sterling tea service accompanied by a large crystal bowl filled with succulent fruits.

Regina smirks because she knows what to expect even before Robin nods and quietly repeats, "Smart little princess."

* * *

Sometime after 2:00 AM Zelena lays awake in bed, her most recent conversation with Regina careening through her mind like a pinball trapped inside a maze and changing directions with each new barrier it encounters. Each time she thinks, 'It simply cannot be', Regina's voice counters; offering up a new obstacle, a new possibility; yet to be considered.

_She's wrong. She simply wrong. But then, I've made a habit out of opposing her. Is that the only reason I'm doing it now? Out of habit? What if she's right? Her suggestions, her arguments were not without merit. I don't want to go meet this woman if she's not who Regina thinks she is. Suppose she's not this person. Suppose she's not my grandmother. Suppose she has other reasons for wanting to get close to me. But what? And she just happened to meet my sister? In the absence of proof, what security do I have?_

Zelena rolls onto her side and flips her pillow over to the cool side before punching it vigorously and wrestling it back into position.

_Hades would know what to do. Damn Zeus! Damn him for separating us… Hades… That's it. That's all I have to do. I have to talk to Hades. And maybe I can…_

She bolts upright in bed and stares blindly into the darkness.

_Maybe I do have proof… Or at least the ability to obtain proof. Maybe I did heal Regina simply because I wanted to. I've always needed Hades as my escort to travel to and from the underworld because it's a place apart from time, a place only gods can reach… Or maybe I only believed I needed him. If she really is my grandmother, if I really am her granddaughter then maybe I am able to…_

She suddenly feels as though she's been caught standing in the middle of a sun shower, a warm breeze swirling tempestuously around her; the silky fabric of her nightgown fluttering and snapping in the wind as her face, arms, and hands are gently bathed with a cool mist from the night-time clouds above.

Zelena's bed is empty before this unexpected sensation has time to alarm her.

* * *

Lonely, and brooding about it without any regard for his self-indulgent state of mind, Hades pours himself a third highball of cognac. Swirling the amber liquid gently in the glass, he turns, drops the glass; sending its contents splashing over his favorite pair of Armani slippers, and somehow narrowly avoids yelping like a whipped dog at the unexpected sight of his wife lying propped up on one elbow atop one of his finely upholstered chaise lounges across the expansive room.

Afraid his mind is playing tricks on him; he closes his eyes and opens them again. "Zelena?"

"Hades?" She asks sounding no less startled or mystified.

He steps out of the puddle of cognac and magically wipes it from existence with the mere snap of his fingers as he hurries to her side. "How did you…?"

Zelena shakes her head; her red curls bouncing with astonishment. "I don't know. All I know is… I wanted to be here… And here I am." She doesn't know whether to smile or groan aloud, but she throws her arms around him just the same. "I guess that means Regina has it right."

Hades pulls back slightly. "Not that I'm not overjoyed to see you, my love…" He pauses long enough for a brief but passionate kiss. "but what exactly does Regina have right?"

Dazed and murmuring mostly to herself, Zelena hums in astonishment. "She really is my grandmother. She must be."

Misunderstanding, the Dark Lord shakes his head erratically. She's not your grandmother. She's your sister. There's no way she can possibly be both unless you're suggesting that the forest-dwelling miscreant she's married to is somehow your grandfather."

Momentarily confused, Zelena scowls and then manages to laugh and look nauseated simultaneously. "Not Regina! And Robin, my grandfather? Don't be vulgar, darling!"

"OK, then who are you talking about?"

"Aradia Crowley."

"Who? Selene's daughter?"

"You know her?" Zelena pulls back slightly feeling the thrill of excitement dance through her nerve endings.

"Well, of course, I know her. I haven't seen her for a few centuries though. She was exiled."

"I know that already. Regina has bumped into her. Aradia knows Alan; one of the merry men. I guess they are friends or something. She's a midwife. She has apparently joined them in Elyria in anticipation of Norah's arrival. On whose authority was she exiled?"

Well, as I said, it's been a few centuries, and I was already down here so, news from Olympus always comes second hand, but if I was told correctly, she exiled herself - with Zeus's permission, of course."

Zelena squints. "Why would anyone willingly exile themselves from Olympus?"

"Big fight with her mother. A bad one. I'm told they nearly destroyed half of the mountain. I think Zeus was glad to be rid of her, or at least glad to separate the two of them. He had to clean up the mess they made."

"What did they quarrel over?"

"Aradia killed her father."

"She killed her own father?"

Hades nods, more fascinated by the delicate pulse point in his wife's neck than the conversation.

"Why?"

"As I understand it, she didn't care for the power he had over her mother."

Zelena frowns thoughtfully. "I didn't know you could put a god under a spell."

"I didn't get the impression that Selene was under any magical spell. I think Crowley's power over her was more emotional in nature. Rumor has it that it was a dark obsessive romance they shared… Regina thinks Aradia is your grandmother?"

Zelena drops a light kiss on his lips. "Apparently, I look like her."

For a moment, he studies his wife's face objectively, as though he's never seen her before. Sitting up a little straighter, he raises an eyebrow. "Now that you mention it…"

Zelena swats at his chest playfully. "You just admitted you haven't seen her in centuries."

"Yes, but gods and goddesses don't age the way humans do. Comparatively, we might age a decade every 150 years or so and the older we get the slower the aging process goes."

"I wanted some sort of proof to substantiate Regina's suspicions if I was going to go meet with Aradia. I had just decided to try and see if I could get here on my own… Unless you called me here?"

Hades shakes his head. "I wish I could have, but no. Still, your arrival here is not absolute proof of paternity. However, if she's not your grandmother, it's clear that someone else in the family is."

"Hades, that's mildly unsettling."

"No reason it should be, my love. The family tree is colossal with some pretty far-reaching branches; what with Zeus's predilection for sowing his oats on Earth. He's not the only one either, he's just the one best known for it. Besides, even if we are related, it hasn't caused us any problems. Eliana's a marvel. There's not a thing wrong with our girl."

Zelena's eyes go wide suddenly. "Eliana…"

"What about her? Is she alright?"

"Yes, but I didn't leave her a note. I better go back."

Hades frowns. "You're leaving?"

"Only for a minute. She needs to know where I am." Zelena wrinkles her nose, concentrating diligently, intent on making the journey by choice this time.

"Don't try so…"

Before Hades can finish speaking, she's back in the Emerald palace and, having missed her intended place of arrival, she walks face-first into an unoccupied suit of armor stationed in the corridor some 20 feet beyond her daughter's bedroom door.

Ripped from slumber by the thunderous clatter and the resulting expletive that comes with it, Robin nearly tumbles out of bed, only catching himself at the last possible second before racing from the room with his sleepy and seriously annoyed wife following very close behind.

Scowling in puzzlement and alarm at the sight before them, Regina demands, "Zelena! What in the name of…"

Yawning, Eliana interrupts with her own question, talking around the hand that covers her mouth. "Mum! What are you doing to poor Oscar?"

Stepping forward, Robin tries to help disentangle her from the clattering bits of armor.

Pushing herself free and roughly slapping his hands away, she hisses loudly, "Let go of me! I can do it myself! And who the bloody hell is Oscar?"

Eliana shrugs as she points from one suit of armor to the one standing directly across the corridor. "He's Oscar… He's Felix. Norah named them earlier this evening. Don't ask me where she came up with the names."

Arriving a half-step behind everyone else and pulling a quilt around her shoulders in place of a proper dressing gown, Norah offers her cousin a saucy smile. "And you wonder why I always beat you at Trivial Pursuit. Oscar and Felix… from the TV show The Odd Couple. They were middle-aged roommates. Felix was compulsively neat and well read, while Oscar was a hedonistic slob."

Shaking her head, Eliana rolls her eyes. "Let me guess. Was this a really decrepit old TV show that aired in black and white by any chance?"

Norah nods as if it should be obvious. "Well look at them…" She points enthusiastically to the two suits of armor. One is bright and shiny. The other is sort of dusty and dented and he looked like he was falling apart, even before your mom decided to go waltzing with him at 2:00 AM."

Still feeling disgruntled by her less than grand reentry, Zelena grouses, "I wasn't doing any such thing. I was coming back from the underworld to leave you a note so that when you wake up tomorrow morning you'll know where I am. I just miscalculated and…" She points erratically. "Oscar here, got in my way."

"Oh, okay. Message received. Can I go back to bed now?"

"Of course, darling. I'm sorry. Sweet dreams." Barely acknowledging Robin, Zelena sidesteps him while murmuring under her breath. "He doesn't have a shirt on."

Robin squints, unsure why this fact should be worthy of mentioning at all.

Regina's hands find her hips. "Yes, we're all aware. In case you're not, we were all in bed asleep."

"I know. I said I was sorry. It's just… I didn't know. He's not bad to look at."

Glowering, Regina takes her husband by the hand. "Oh, go ogle your own husband, Greenie!"

"Okay, I will!" The redheaded witch disappears without another word.

Norah watches her mother, her father, and her cousin all return to their rooms grumbling sleepily under their breath before she approaches Oscar. Standing on tiptoe and dropping a light kiss where one might expect to find his cheek if he had one, she softly declares, "Next time, dude, try not to wake every soul in the palace." Stifling a yawn, the crown princess of Covarrachia glides away, returning to her bedchamber; the quilt around her shoulders fanning out and trailing the ground behind her as if it were elegant royal garb.


	18. Chapter 18

* * *

**Oz**

**Emerald City**

**Present Day**

Robin wakes later than usual but finds he still has no desire to get out of bed. Stretching lazily, he reaches out for the one royal he truly loves, only to be, both, mildly disappointed and perplexed to find that Regina's side of the bed no longer holds any trace of her body's warmth. He frowns but recovers quickly.

_That's okay. She's usually up before me._

He opens his eyes. She's not beside him. He sits up. She's not in the room.

_Zelena should hire a professional decorator. An interior designer, she is not._

He calls his wife's name. No answer. He hears neither footsteps nor the sound of running water to indicate that she might be showering or otherwise preparing for the day.

Robin fumbles his way out of bed. From the finely upholstered bench at the foot of the bed, he picks up a tartan dressing gown obviously meant for him and examines it closely before slipping into it. It's new, and most likely came to him courtesy of magic. Tying the sash, he mutters softly, "Thank you mi'lady."

Stepping up to the antique washing basin, he fills the porcelain bowl with tepid water from the matching pitcher and washes his face and hands as he stares out a nearby window into the small garden below.

_No Regina out there either._

He glances at his own pillow and then hers before sweeping his gaze across both night tables.

_No note._

For one horrifying second, he wonders if he slept through something he shouldn't have.

_No. That simply isn't possible. She would have woken me; by whatever means necessary._

He smiles.

_Definitely. The woman would push me out of bed if she had to._

Drying his face on the towel hung over the side rail of the wash basin stand, he shrugs.

_Just go find her. Everything's fine. We're not in Storybrooke. So, she's not at work, she's probably downstairs having breakfast with the girls._

For the better part of 30 minutes, he wanders room to room. He encounters no one sans a myriad of largely incommunicative palace servants who have not seen her recently.

_Why is this place so big? She is one woman with one husband and one child. Why do they need a palace large enough to comfortably house an entire village?_

He makes his way down the grand staircase. On the ground floor, he encounters another seemingly endless supply of hollow-sounding and very empty rooms.

No sooner than he seriously begins to wish he had a map he stumbles blindly, and quite by accident, into what is obviously a small breakfast parlor.

Catching sight of a familiar face, he releases a pent-up breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Smiling at his redheaded niece, he steps to the buffet table and surveys the options available to him as he says over his shoulder, "Good morning Eliana."

She's polite enough to murmur incoherently around the rim of a coffee mug.

"Have you any idea where Norah or her mother is this morning?"

When he hears no reply, he turns to find her shaking her head and lifting one shoulder in a casual shrug as she helps herself to a bite of cereal.

When she can, she says, I'm glad you're up. I don't think anybody's here except for you and me. This place is a little spooky when there are so few people here. Norah would say this place is as empty as Grant's tomb."

Robin chuckles softly. "I agree with you about this place being a little spooky, but I think you mean as 'silent' as Grant's tomb."

Eliana shrugs even as she laughs at herself. "Well, that would make more sense, wouldn't it? Let us hope his tomb is not empty. I'd hate to think he's wandering around out there all zombied-up."

Robin raises an eyebrow. "Eliana, I think you've seen one too many horror movies."

Eliana smiles. "I like them. Norah won't watch them with me. She says, 'El, who needs to watch horror movies when we've got a dead grandmother who invades other people's bodies during séances.' I told her that shouldn't count because it happened before either of us were born, but she says just hearing about it was enough."

"Norah doesn't strike me as the sort of girl who spooks easily."

"She's not. However, stories of our grandmother did put her off magic a long time ago. She's a bit better now, but she still holds her abilities in reserve for the most part."

Robin turns this new tidbit of information over in his mind, but before he can ask for anything more; familiar voices and footsteps are heard approaching. He turns his attention to the door just as Regina and Norah enter the room, their arms laden with shopping packages, they are momentarily lost in their own conversation.

Smirking as he steps forward, he takes the packages and shopping bags from his wife's arms and asks, "You've been shopping – do you think you could have left a note telling us where you'd gone off to?"

Regina frowns, somewhat surprised by his mild but obvious irritation.

"Since when do you keep tabs on me."

Robin shrugs. "I usually don't have to. I usually know where you are but, at present, neither of us is holding to a normal schedule. You're not supposed to be alone, and you know it."

"I wasn't. Norah was with me, and I feel perfectly fine."

"Regina…"

She waves whatever he was going to say aside and snaps in irritable resignation, "Never mind. You're right. I never did like having chaperones."

Robin relents slightly. "Love, they aren't chaperones."

"Maybe not, but they feel terribly similar. I should have left a note. I just wanted to spend some time with Norah."

"It's my fault, Daddy." Norah steps in. "I was going to go horseback riding this morning. There's a nice stable here and its inhabitants look rather lonely. Mom caught up with me. It was a spur of the moment decision because it's not a good idea for her to go riding right now. So, I suggested we go shopping instead. We were already outside. We just didn't think about coming back in to tell anyone."

Robin opens his mouth to speak, but Eliana cuts him off. "Relax, Uncle Robin. Everybody's fine." She turns her piercing blue gaze to her cousin. "Norah, I can't believe you went shopping without me, but I'll get over it in a hurry if you tell me that you bought something cute to wear that I can borrow."

Norah gives her own shopping bags an enticing jiggle. "Come on, let's go upstairs. I'll show you everything I've got."

Eliana abandons her cereal bowl without a moment's hesitation and the girls flit from the room like two exuberant fairies in possession of a map that pinpoints the exact location of paradise.

Robin is intent on issuing another halfhearted complaint until he catches sight of his wife's rarely seen yet, beautiful smile.

Regina doesn't speak until she's absolutely certain the girls are out of hearing range and even then, she whispers in grateful astonishment, "She has a friend."

Stepping around behind her, Robin folds his arms around her and rests his chin on her shoulder. "Well, of course, she does. That's not really so extraordinary is it?"

Torn between giving the expected answer and the one on the tip of her tongue, Regina admits quietly. "I never had a friend like that - not one I could go shopping with, and certainly not one that I would share clothes with." She turns in his arms and kisses his cheek. "She's happy."

Robin gently pushes a stray hair away from her face. "Eliana just implied, right before you came in, that she's not really comfortable with using magic; and I can't help but notice that she seems a little unsure of herself at times."

Regina shrugs. "What teenager doesn't? That's normal. She'll find her way through. She made it this far. As long as she's happy…"

"Then what?"

"Then she'll be okay no matter what happens to me."

"I wish you wouldn't talk that way."

"Well, one of us has to, for the sake of all our kids."

"Regina…"

She shakes her head. "Look… I have no intention of going gently. If anybody has ever raged against the dying of the light, it's going to be me, but we can't pretend we don't know what might happen."

Robin groans in equal parts anger and fear. "Regina, I am not pretending. I am doing everything I can think of to prevent…" unable to say the word, he verbally dances around it. "what we're talking about from happening. I understand you want to make sure she's okay if things don't work out. I get it, and I love you all the more for it, but talking about what might happen isn't going to do us any good. Planning for the worst isn't going to do me any good. I've been through this once before. So have you. No amount of planning is going to soften that blow. There is absolutely nothing out there … in the entire universe … that will make it hurt any less. So, if you don't mind, I'd rather not waste our time discussing it. I'd rather put all my energy into preventing it. If…" he grimaces. "I don't want to question whether or not things would have been any different if I had just tried a little harder."

Regina rests her forehead against his. "You know…" She whispers. "It doesn't rest on your shoulders alone. It’s not solely up to you."

"Yes, I know we're supposed to be in this together, but you keep ditching the midwives. Help me out, just a little? They can't look after you if they're not with you."

Regina raises a hopeful eyebrow. "If I promise to stop fleeing the scene without accompaniment, will you promise to stop worrying?"

Robin thinks it over and flashes his smile but shakes his head. "Not a chance!"

Regina clicks her tongue against the inside of her cheek. "I didn't think so." She looks around. "Where is Zelena?"

Robin shrugs. "Not here. Still with Hades, I guess."

Sighing in resignation, she leaves the warmth of his embrace and steps closer to the heavy gilded mirror on the wall behind the serving table. She focuses on her breathing. She's got a good idea about Zelena's general whereabouts, but, for a moment, she focuses intently on her sister's specific unknown location and hopes there's a mirror within the immediate vicinity.

Happy to keep her close, Robin joins her. Taking up the same position as before, he drapes an arm around her shoulders from behind. "What are you up to?"

"I'm going to find her… or at least, I'm going to try."

"By mirror?"

"Would you rather go back to the underworld?"

Robin grimaces. "I'd rather have every tooth in my head pulled without Novocain than go back there, Regina."

She nods. "The entire reason for coming here was to get Zelena and take her back to Covarrachia. Do you want to wait until she decides to return?"

"No, I don't want to do that either." Robin frowns. "But… I was just thinking, since you tend to accidentally blow things up without warning, maybe trying to perform magic on a looking glass isn't such a good idea."

Taking the prudence of his words under consideration, Regina gently shoos him to the side and out of the direct path of glass that may explode.

Robin raises a curious eyebrow. "Why move me out of the way? At least you can heal me. You can't heal yourself?"

"Because, regardless of the fact that I can heal you, I'd rather not have to."

Regina gives her shoulders a small shake trying to loosen the tension she holds there. She hasn't done this in a while. She faces the mirror, turns her hands palm up, closes her eyes, and once again, begins to focus on her breathing. Robin is so quiet that she can hear the clock on the far wall ticking louder than a metronome. She allows the sound to surround her, envelop her, and override any other sound that would distract her. Breaching the veil between two worlds is a dark thing. Breaching the veil between this one and the underworld, even through the limited scope of a mirror, is darker still.

Darkness begins to swirl behind her eyelids. It pulls her forward, moving her toward black ecstasy with the urgent insistence of a ready lover. She smiles like someone greeting an old friend, even as a thin line of worry creases her forehead.

She steps back, suddenly desperate to break free of its tantalizing hold. Opening her eyes, she reaches for Robin and he obliges without hesitation, taking her in his arms once more.

"What's wrong?" He speaks softly.

Instead of answering his question, she quietly demands, "Kiss me."

For a single instant, Robin's brow furrows in surprise and then he shrugs, tightens his embrace, and accommodates her willingly, indulging in, not only her wishes but his own as well.

When her lips part, she murmurs hungrily, and he tangles his fingers in her dark hair, tilts her chin, and takes full advantage of the moment.

She tastes like a secret; a veiled treasure cloaked in beauty and mystery.

Robin wantonly takes as much as he gives, knowing he'll never reach a place where he's had too much of her.

Together they linger in the shallow end of passion letting the tumultuous waves tumble all around them. Their mouths only part when their hands begin to itch with wanderlust, and they find themselves flirting with the imminent desire to let the waves take them under.

Regina grazes her husband's swollen lips with soft fingertips and smiles serenely.

Robin blinks when he realizes that his arms hold her as tightly as a steel trap and that their daughter is kicking wildly inside her belly, he smiles with the faintest hint of apology present in his blue eyes.

"Didn't mean to get quite so carried away, mi'lady."

Regina chuckles softly. "I'm not complaining. I got what I wanted."

"Well, maybe you should be complaining. We're getting awfully close to her grand debut. You don't need me pawing at you like a half-starved beast."

Her mild chuckle becomes bold laughter. "First, there were no paws, and second, who told you that lie?"

He squints with mild uncertainty. "You wouldn't hedge the truth just to make a man feel good?"

She raises a provocative eyebrow. "Do I ever?"

He shrugs. "Not that I've noticed. I guess I was wrong. I thought maybe late pregnancy had finally tamed those insatiable hormones of yours."

She hums seductively. "Not in the least. I just assume that you probably aren't all that eager to get kinky with the Hindenburg."

At a loss, Robin frowns. "The Hindenburg?"

Regina squints briefly until she realizes that he has no idea what she's talking about. Then, she supplies, "Obsolete form of air-travel from our world. A giant oblong balloon-like craft, largest around the middle. It caught fire mid-air and killed three dozen people."

Robin nods gravely. "You are not the Hindenburg… And stop reading Henry's textbooks."

"I feel like the Hindenburg. Wide around the middle and due to explode any day now. I wasn't reading one of Henry's schoolbooks either. Daddy found the information in one of his newly acquired books and decided to share."

Robin wrinkles his nose. "Regardless of how you feel, I promise, you're not… and why is it that your head is a dark storehouse for information on historical disasters? Why don't you ever remember any of the good things in the history books?"

Regina shrugs. "Maybe I do still gravitate toward the darker stuff, but when was the last time you read something good in a history book? The historians of our world are much more apt to tell about the tragedies than the comedies. Even the historical triumphs required hard-fought and bloody uphill battles."

Robin nods somberly and then jokes. "So, should we do that again, or have I inspired you enough to ensure your return following your momentary tryst with the dark side?"

Regina's eyes widen slightly. "You figured me out."

"I was a little slow on the uptake, but yes, I caught on. You have no secrets… Not for me, woman."

Turning back to the mirror, Regina whispers scandalously. "You hope…"

She closes her eyes, and once more taps into the power that flows through her veins; as life-affirming as the blood that feeds it, and as potent as three fingers of well-aged bourbon.

Gently, before that power begins to emanate from her palms, Robin takes her by the hand and encourages her to take an extra three steps back away from the mirror before stepping clear himself.

Feeling the dark tide within rise and swell again, Regina unleashes a dark stream of magic from both hands simultaneously and is at least mildly surprised when the mirror before her is appropriately covered and bathed in that black manifestation as opposed to shattering.

At first, there is the expected resistance but after a full minute, she feels the gateway relent and open to her, and she calls out, even before her eyes are fully open to the scene before her. "Zelena."

A golden satin sheet; sliding wrinkled and unnoticed from the foot of an absolutely gargantuan four-poster bed, a tangle of arms and legs, thighs, and hips… too many for just one person, a flash of unruly long red hair, the swell of bare breasts, the curve of an arched back, and the first small sparks of blue flame emanating from the top of Lord Death's head.

Regina sees it all in under a second, and that is still too long.

"Sorry!" She calls out in shock. Turning away quickly to avert her gaze, she dives and shoves Robin out of the path of danger the instant before Hades roars, "What the hell?" and a massive green fireball with flames hot enough to shatter the glass on both ends of the viewing portal explodes into the breakfast room and scorches the wall directly behind the unfortunate couple who hadn't intended to interrupt such a private moment.

As Robin goes down, he tries wildly to slow Regina's dissent. He hits the floor with a hard thud, and Hades' bellowed words are still ringing through the air, mingling with the odor of scorched plaster, three long seconds after he reacts and rolls under the breakfast table pulling Regina along with him.

He stays where he stopped, flat on his back, and doesn't dare to move so much as a toe. Then, a full ten seconds later, with no small amount of trepidation, he eases his head up off the floor and, gazing between the legs of the table, he sighs with mammoth relief when he sees that the portal has closed.

He helps ease Regina onto her side and tenderly pushes hair away from her face before touching her in multiple places at once. "Are you alright, love?" He places both hands against her belly. "Is she alright?"

Pushing herself up on one elbow, Regina sighs and places one of her hands over his, trying to still his nervous inspection. "We're both fine. We landed on top of you! Are you OK?"

A delayed grunt of shock escapes Robin. "How do you suppose they do that without setting the bed on fire? Are the sheets flame retardant?"

Regina hugs him close as laughter born of relief consumes both of them.

Robin slides out from under the table and helps Regina to her feet.

* * *

Half an hour later, he's enjoying an omelet made with spicy green chilies when his plate suddenly disappears. He scowls in consternation at the fork halfway between where his plate use to be and his mouth, and then laughs boldly when his plate magically reappears on the table directly in front of his wife.

Groaning in frustration, Regina immediately tries to hand the plate back to him, as she says around the rim of her cup of tea. "Sorry about that."

Robin chuckles. "At least you're not blowing things up. You can have it. I'll get another plate."

"No. I don't need it. I've already eaten. Norah and I stopped for breakfast before shopping. I didn't call for it. At least not intentionally. I simply thought, 'That smells good.' and…"

"Voila!" Robin drops his napkin on the table as he rises to get himself another plate. "She's getting stronger… And she can have it. I don't mind."

Regina eyes him sharply. "You're going to spoil her."

Robin talks over his shoulder as he puts food on another plate. "I don't think there's much danger of that. She doesn't seem spoiled to me."

"Maybe not, but you're encouraging a very bad habit without realizing it. It's not a good idea to allow her to call for anything she wants, anytime she wants. At its core, magic is energy. It's the energy generated by wishes. Light or dark; either way, she's going to feed on that energy, and that's okay, but we shouldn't let her overindulge, not on food or any other wish she will have. If she doesn't learn some moderation, some temperance, things can go bad."

Robin returns to his seat and squeezes her hand gently. "You worry too much. It's an omelet. It's okay if she wants an omelet. It's not a lifetime supply of candy. We can teach her about temperance and moderation later. Right now, she's a baby. She's not even old enough to understand those things. Earlier, Eliana let slip that Norah is very selective about it. Apparently. she hardly ever uses magic. I didn't have time to ask why. The two of you came in before I could."

Regina frowns.

Robin smiles patiently. "First, you worry that she will rely too heavily on magic. Now, you're worried over the exact opposite."

"Well, it's part of her. I don't want her denying half of who she is, Robin."

"So, we'll talk to her about it. For now, eat before it gets cold. Did she have fun shopping?"

Regina shrugs. "I hope so. She didn't say very much. Almost nothing at all unless I asked her questions but, the shopping trip was her idea. I asked her where she wanted to go specifically, and she shrugged. So, I picked the shops. She didn't complain about my choices. She's finicky about clothing. She likes pretty things. She does have a closely guarded feminine side, but she's painfully practical. We walked past an evening gown in her size and when I picked it up, she barely even looked at it. All she said was, 'It's pretty, but no! Don't spend the money. I have nowhere to wear that thing. It will hang in the closet and collect dust.' She picked out two outfits for herself. I picked out one for her, and when I picked up a second, she looked at the two she had chosen and opted to put one of them back in place of my second choice. I'd told her she could have all four, but she said she didn't need all four."

"See, she's not spoiled."

"No, I guess not. Earlier, when she went upstairs with Eliana to show off her new things… That was the most excitement I saw all morning. I could tell when she liked something but, I didn't get the impression that shopping is her favorite pastime. Truthfully, I wasn't sure she had a good time until she lit up while she was talking to Eliana."

Robin shrugs and sets down his fork "Maybe the shopping trip wasn't about wanting new clothes."

Regina squints. "Why else would anybody go shopping?"

He eyes her as if it should be obvious to her. When it's clear it's not, he offers, "Maybe shopping was just an excuse. Maybe what she really wanted was to spend time alone with you."

Regina almost smiles but then shakes her head. "You think?"

Robin laughs. "Of course, I think. Otherwise, why go to all the trouble to get here. If I understand correctly, traveling back in time is no small feat, especially not for a young girl who reportedly uses her magic very selectively."

Regina raises an eyebrow. "But I told you, she barely spoke the entire time we were shopping. I felt like I was putting on a one-woman show in front of a very exclusive, not to mention, reticent audience."

Robin leans over and kisses her on the cheek. "That's because you were."

When she offers him another inquiring look, he asks, "You have no idea what it's like shopping with you; do you?"

When she scowls curiously, he squeezes her shoulders with affection. "Don't take this the wrong way, mi'lady, but shopping with you is an extreme experience."

"Is it?"

Robin nods somberly. "It's a bit like watching a cyclone touch down. There's nothing you can do to stop it, the best you can hope for is to stay out of its path."

Finally resigned to eating the omelet she unintentionally stole from him; Regina sets down her fork and fixes accusatory eyes on him. "Oh, come on. You've only been shopping with me once… at that little boutique on the cruise ship on our honeymoon."

Robin nods. "Exactly… And I learned that lesser mortals, such as myself, are not well-equipped for that particular undertaking. Had I known ahead of time that you would be going shopping with Norah this morning, I would've made sure she was properly hydrated, nourished, and in possession of a good pair of running shoes before I sent her off."

Regina nudges him brusquely. "Shopping was the one thing Mother and I could do together without arguing… much."

"I feel for the poor shopkeepers. They were probably caught between a positively wanton desire to loosen your purse strings and dreading the sight of the two of you entering their establishment."

Regina scowls comically. "Laugh, if you must Forest Boy…"

Before the queen finishes speaking her sister strides fully, and fashionably clothed out of a sudden brilliant burst of emerald fire. "What the hell, Regina? You don't knock?"

"Good morning to you too, Zelena and I apologize. It wasn't my intent to intrude."

Zelena paces aimlessly, her hands clamped on her hips in agitation. "Exactly what was your intent?"

"Merely to find you."

"Well, congratulations! You succeeded, most appallingly. Hades is utterly traumatized!"

It takes great restraint, but Regina manages not to chuckle. "I would be too if I were him. Can't you take him to the beach or something? He needs some sun. Zelena, men were not meant to have skin pale enough to rival a glass of milk."

"Have you seen where he lives?" Zelena snaps irritably. "There's not exactly an overabundance of sunlight down there, Regina."

"Oh please, living underground is not a legitimate excuse – not for him. I've never met a man more aware of his own appearance than your husband. I walked in on him one day mid- mani/pedi. What? He gets half-naked peasant women to tend to his feet, but he can't buy a tanning bed. Zelena, that was frightening. If his skin gets any paler, he's going to start glowing in the dark."

"You know what? You just stay out of my bedroom and you won't have to worry about it!"

"Fine; not a problem. You have my word, from now on, I'll avoid that room like it's a poorly secured storehouse for the Ebola virus."

Zelena sighs. "What did you want anyway?"

"What?"

"Well, I'm assuming you came looking for me for a reason."

"Oh right. I want to head back to Elyria today. I'm hoping we can accomplish something there rather quickly and move on to Covarrachia."

"Are you feeling okay?"

"Yes, but I am drained. Even sleep doesn't help much at this point. All this portal jumping between worlds and magical kingdom hopping is wearing thin. I'd like to stop doing it as soon as possible."

In an instant, Zelena silently recalls the mind-numbing, soul-sucking fatigue that seemed to press in at her from every angle during the final days of her own pregnancy with Eliana. She nods without further irritation or complaint. "Alright. I'll just go tell Hades where I'm off to. Be back in a jiff." The Wicked Witch strides away, disappearing in another brilliant burst of iridescent green flames.

Robin shakes his head. "Must run in the family."

"What does?"

"The rapid-fire learning curves. You ladies are positively mind-boggling. Last night she was rather clumsily running into inanimate objects. This morning, less than 8 hours later, she's flaming in and out as if she's been doing it since infancy."

"I can't come and go in exactly the same way, but I've had enough experience with expanding power to know that it's just a matter of learning how to channel the ability correctly. Once we tap into that, we're good to go."

"Yes, but anytime I acquire a new skill it takes weeks, sometimes months, to make it into a habit."

"And to those who are wholly uninitiated, you look like a pro… probably long before you actually are. If I know Zelena, she turned to Hades last night for a bit of instruction on the matter. You know, between the bouts of glow in the dark radioactive lovemaking."

Robin turns slightly green around the gills and pushes what's left of his omelet away as he comes to his feet. "I'm going to go tell the girls we're leaving soon."


	19. Chapter 19

* * *

**Elyria**

**Thorncrest Hall**

**Present Day**

Content to let her sister and niece assume the responsibility for transporting the six of them back to Thorncrest, Regina arrives, not as she anticipated, in the grand foyer but rather, on the south lawn, and she is surprised to see long wooden tables set up and attended to by merry men who are clearly facilitating some sort of gathering.

Villagers in old tattered work clothes stand shoulder to shoulder, the line of them extending farther beyond the southern border of the property than can be seen. They shuffle forward slowly two at a time, wearing expressions that are an odd mixture of both doubt and hope. At any one of the tables, each pair has a quiet conversation with the merry man stationed there before signing his or her name to a piece of parchment and receiving items.

Regina turns a slow circle taking in the sight briefly before whispering, "Stay here." as she lets go of Beatrice's hand to step around behind the nearest of the tables to quietly confer with Alan; Robin only a half-step behind her.

"What's going on?" She queries discreetly as she chooses to ignore the wary glances of discomfort and fear on the faces of the villagers standing on the opposite side of the table

"Quite a lot." Mindful of their current lack of privacy, Alan says discreetly, "After you left yesterday, your father saw to it that the Marquis's needs and wishes were properly attended to. Since then, they've set quite a few plans in motion and enlisted our services to see that those plans are carried out." Turning his attention away from her momentarily, he waves casually. "Percival, take over for me here for 10 minutes, will you lad?"

Trotting over, with an easy smile on his face, Percival readily assumes Alan's post and quietly asks if there's a problem.

"No trouble at all," Alan assures calmly for the benefit of villagers within hearing range who haven't yet turned and scurried away. "Just going to have a brief word with the queen; update her on our progress. I won't be gone but a moment or two. You lot feel free to carry on. We'll get to as many of you as we can before sundown." Turning back to Regina and Robin, he bows and gestures politely. "Right this way, Your Majesty." He makes a point of showing nothing less than complete confidence in Regina, hoping to keep frightened villagers from bolting in terror at the sight of her.

Stepping beyond the crowd and seating herself on a whitewashed bench beneath the shade of a mammoth old oak tree, she almost smiles in appreciation of his efforts.

"You don't have to do that for me, Alan."

"I'm not. Quite honestly, Your Grace, I'm doing it for us. There are far too many people out here. If they all decide to turn tail and flee in panic, somebody's going to be trampled to death. I'd rather not have to clean up the mess."

Regina's tongue clicks against the inside of her cheek. "Fair enough. What is all this?"

"Turns out the Marchioness has been overstocking the cellar and all the storehouses on the property. She's hoarding."

"Hoarding what?"

Alan shrugs. "Anything… Everything. Salt, grain, seeds, feed for the animals, fruits and vegetables, meat, blankets, wool and cotton, flour and sugar. Nothing produced on the estate has left the estate. Apparently not for years. Some of it's not worth having and will have to be thrown out. But this estate accounts for nearly 1/3 of the kingdom. Most all the workhouses and nearly all the rental properties stand vacant. What little staff they do employ is too small in number to keep up with the grounds in their entirety. Most of the crops have gone to seed. The workers can't keep up with it. We're filling the empty workhouses; giving those who are capable and want to work the necessary seed and tools they will need to do the jobs properly. The cottages and other small houses will be filled with the families of those who are willing to work a small portion of the land in exchange for shelter and adequate wages."

Robin nods in approval as Regina queries, "We've been gone less than 24 hours. How on earth did you organize all this so quickly?"

"It really wasn't that difficult once the Marquis Eldebury was on board."

Alan drops his voice to a barely audible whisper, once again, for the sake of discretion.

"Your father saw to it that he was moved to a suite of rooms on the ground floor before nightfall yesterday. He's been properly bathed and fed, and he seems much improved as a result of the King's efforts. Don't get me wrong, he still a little scattered mentally, but the difference is notable. Perhaps a proper meal helped him metabolize some of the 'medication' he seems to have been on."

Alan says the word medication with no small amount of disdain.

"Your father sent for a local doctor from the village since the house physician seems to have vanished. Dr. McPherson arrived late last night and not only examined the marquis, but the marchioness as well. Talk to Mrs. Lampton, the housekeeper for a more detailed explanation of what he found, she's responsible for overseeing their care and is coordinating efforts with the nurse the doctor left behind temporarily but it's my understanding that he gave the marchioness medication to help ease her discomfort and that he took the marquis off more than one medication he claimed was doing more harm than good. Your father says Lord Eldebury woke very early this morning in a much better state of mind. The two of them have been setting things in motion since before dawn. The villagers don't quite know what to make of it yet, but they are scared, hungry, and in need. Offer people in that position a way out, and most of them will grab the opportunity with both hands."

He gestures to the crowd around them as proof of what he says.

"This morning, after an early breakfast, Aradia escorted King Henry to the palace to request an audience with King John. It seems that upon meeting with your father, King John, who was not happy to be roused from his bed quite so early, returned with your father to judge the state of things for himself. They are upstairs in the library, as we speak, behind closed doors and presumably hammering out some sort of gentleman's agreement regarding the welfare of Elyria. Henry called me up there about two hours ago, he told me about the overstocked storehouses and cellar. He asked me to verify their conditions, and once I had, he asked me how I thought Robin would handle the situation. I told them what I thought, they spent a few seconds looking at each other in silence, then nodded and told me to take care of it. At first, me and the lads, we were just telling people passing by on the main road. Word of mouth took over, and now they are showing up in droves. Nobody's leaving empty-handed unless they choose to, and I think we might be at this for days."

"How's Lady Eldebury taking all this?"

Alan covers his mouth and tugs at his beard nervously even as his eyes light up with merriment. "I haven't been up there for a while, but if the old bird knows what's good for her, she's taking in silently."

Robin squints, sensing intuitively that there's more to the story.

"Aradia went in to check on her this morning. The marchioness screamed at her so violently that Aradia lost her temper and rendered the old bat mute for several hours. As soon as Aradia calmed down and restored her voice, she went right back to bellowing and found herself gagged, yet again. Haven't heard a peep out of her since sometime after 10:00 AM.

Regina nods and slowly comes to her feet aided by Robin's sturdy arm. As she steps toward the nearest entrance without further comment Alan squints in uncertainty and calls after her, "Does that mean there's nothing you would do differently, Your Majesty?"

Glancing over her shoulder, Regina shrugs. "It doesn't matter what I would do. Ask the marquis." She gestures toward Robin. "He's the man in charge."

In response to the suddenly stricken look on her husband's face, Regina returns to his side momentarily.

"I'm not the marquis yet," he whispers.

She smiles and whispers back. "But you are … minus the public declaration." When her quiet announcement does nothing to soothe his worries, she shrugs and kisses his cheek. "Forget the title. Just be yourself. Do… what you do."

She steps away again. Her hand lingering in his, she assures, "I won't be far. Come find me if you need me."

Robin nods, his blue eyes going soft and warm. "Always."

Regina scowls, the conversation faintly reminiscent of Snow and Charming.

Aware of the turn her private thoughts have suddenly taken, Robin chuckles. "You know what I mean."

"Sir?" a group of villagers waiting to be seen calls out and Alan turns his attention back to them as he beckons to Robin to lend a hand.

Regina tilts her head in their general direction. "Your public awaits."

It's Robin's turn to scowl and Regina chuckles before turning her attention back to the group she arrived with. "Beatrice, will you give Zelena and Eliana a quick tour of Thorncrest?"

Beatrice smiles agreeably. "Certainly."

Zelena offers her sister a sharp but silent look.

"I'll let Aradia know you're here. We'll catch up with you in the north parlor."

Beatrice nods.

Holding out her hand, Regina says, "Come on, Norah. Let's go find your grandfather."

* * *

Moments later, after ascertaining the king's exact location within the house courtesy of the household staff, mother and daughter quietly approach the door of the library. Indecision stiffens Norah's spine briefly and she inquires in an anxious whisper, "He's in there talking to a king?"

"He is." Regina pauses, her hand poised to knock.

Norah tugs self-consciously at the hem of the purple tunic she wears over dark brown leather riding trousers. "What should I do?"

Regina straightens the shoulders of the blouse before placing a firm but gentle hand between her daughter's shoulder blades, silently encouraging better posture. "Don't slouch, smile - but not too much, and for now, just observe quietly. Don't join the conversation unless you're invited to do so."

Norah scowls in wonder and whispers, "Is it my imagination, or did my mother just tell me to, stand up straight, look pretty, and keep my mouth shut?"

Regina uses the side of her index finger to lift her daughter's chin "Only until you get your feet wet." About to knock again, she asks, "Ready?"

"No. Definitely not ready. But I guess there's nothing quite like baptism by fire.

"You really are my daughter," Regina whispers wryly.

She knocks as Norah hisses, "What? You didn't believe me before now?"

Henry opens the door a crack in inquiry and then smiles at the pair of them warmly before stepping back to allow them into the room.

Regina places a hand under her daughter's elbow and whispers discreetly as she plasters on a perfunctory smile. "Take a deep breath."

Norah thinks her mother is simply offering a banal piece of advice meant to steady her nerves until the door closes behind her and she realizes that the room is home to a nearly impenetrable cloud of noxious cigar smoke. As her grandfather makes introductions, she manages to avoid fanning the air in front of her face, but only by clasping her hands firmly behind her back.

"John, I'm sure you remember my daughter." Henry gestures politely.

Regina nods in polite acknowledgment of the older man's title. "Your Highness."

"Regina." A squat fat little man with terrible acne sits in his chair looking like a toad on his lily pad, and acknowledges her mother with thinly veiled disdain as he puffs on his cigar, and Norah bites the inside of her lower lip, clamping down hard to keep from laughing aloud at the sight of him.

She's never really thought of her grandfather as a king even though she knows it to be true. First and foremost, he's always been 'Papa' in her eyes so, she doesn't really know what she expected a king to look like, but whatever image she expected, it certainly isn't the one before her. He's perfectly ridiculous with his pockmarked face and his velvet coat that is the same color as a giant bowl of pea soup.

"And this charming young lady is my granddaughter, Princess Norah," Henry concludes the introductions.

Norah is lost in her thoughts for a 1/2 second too long until Regina discreetly nudges her. Then, eager to make up for the brief delay, she steps forward offering to shake the man's hand; only to become the beneficiary of the same look of disdain he fixed upon her mother.

Offering an almost imperceptible smile to ward of the scowl she feels rising to the surface, Norah concentrates hard to keep from shrugging in response to the King's rudeness and lowers her hand, clasping it, once more, behind her back and rising to her full height.

"Perhaps the ladies can be seated?" Henry moves the conversation along with a trace of flint in his words.

King John nods reluctantly as he points to Regina. "Yes, I think perhaps they should be, lest she drops that baby right here at our feet. Henry, what is happening to us? Does no one observe proper etiquette anymore? Surely she's well past the time for confinement."

Regina frowns but holds her tongue.

Her father forces himself to speak in a calm even tone of voice. "John, we live in a world where confinement of women in the final stages of pregnancy is a very outdated notion. We do not hide them away from the world or treat them like inept dolls made of porcelain. We come from a place where medical men and women understand that lethargy promotes muscle atrophy which only makes labor and delivery that much harder. Proper activity and exercise are encouraged for the health of both mother and child. I think only of their comfort. Nothing more. I assure you Regina is more than capable of being here, but if it's her welfare that concerns you, you might consider extinguishing that foul-smelling cigar."

The rotund king eyes the end of his glowing cigar with reluctant speculation and then glowers at Regina, who ignores him and guides Norah to one of two plush seats and then opens the large window behind them to let in fresh air before taking the remaining seat for herself.

Norah observes Regina's rigid posture and silently muses that her mother looked more comfortable while standing, but the girl does her best to follow her mother's example and crosses her feet primly at the ankles before the disagreeable monarch's next words bring an unchecked scowl to her face.

"Henry, you've misled me."

"Have I?"

"You assured me that you had Elyria's best interests at heart. You told me that if I supported your boy's claim to the title of Marquis, things here would improve drastically. This place has become something of an eyesore. You assured me that under Covarrachia's reign it would once again become profitable – for both of us."

"And it will. You have my word."

"You failed to tell me that your daughter has returned with you."

"John, I haven't failed to tell you anything that was relevant to the matter at hand. Locksley will see this land prosper. There's no one more capable. He has my complete confidence. The fact that Regina is here, the fact that she's his wife, is not relevant."

The fat monarch nearly chokes. "His wife! Would you care to tell me how that's not relevant? Is a wife… any wife… not in a prime position for influence? Much less one with a crown on her head? One with your daughter's rather infamous reputation, I might add?"

"The fact remains, that the post will be his. Not hers. And I assure you, he's not a man easily led."

King John guffaws rudely. "Oh, she likes them muscle-bound well enough. Muscle-bound and spineless. The only one with stones enough to stand up to her was that huntsman of hers, and no one has heard from or seen him in decades. "What dark hole did you bury him in Regina? Or did you even give him the dignity of a proper burial?"

Regina lifts her chin, her dark eyes ablaze with tightly contained fury. "I'm not here to explain myself to you. Even if I did have the inclination, I don't have the time. You can support Robin's claim to the title of Marquis, or you can relinquish Elyria to Covarrachia, and my father will support the claim. Either way, whether you're willing or not, it's going to happen."

"Is that supposed to frighten me? Your father is in no position to raise an army just now, and even if he were, he likes a good game of chess. He's got a good head for strategy, but sadly, not the stomach for war. You're not a fighter, Henry. You never were."

Regina lifts one shoulder in a casual shrug. "John, it's true Covarrachia may not be in the best of shape at present, but you're about to make a costly mistake. You're assuming that just because my father is a nice guy, he won't burn your house down. Before you speak again, I strongly urge you to consider who his allies are?"

"Are you threatening me?"

Regina smiles coldly, her hand shimmying side to side in the air. "Word of advice… Threat… Call it what you want. I'm sure I can help him if need be. It's been a few years since I found myself in need of an army, but I'm sure I can remember how to build one if you really want to play it that way. If you'll remember, my Black Knights were rather merciless in their pursuits."

Eager to steer the woman before him away from the topic of armies and kingdoms at war, he squints and addresses her father once more. "Well, where is he? Where is this boy of yours? If you find him so capable, then why is he not here to speak on his own behalf?"

Henry gestures toward the open window. "He's out there. Out there where we all should be; among the people."

King John sits up a little straighter in his chair and peers out the window. "Out there? Among the rabble? Good god, man! Tell me you're joking!"

Henry shakes his head. "While we're all sitting in here talking about what to do for the people. He's out there doing it; no discussion needed."

"Are you suggesting that behavior somehow makes him superior to us; actively associating with the common ilk?"

"That's not what I'm saying at all, John."

Norah speaks up without warning, her face heated and rosy with anger. "Well, if my grandfather won't say it, I certainly will!"

Stunned momentarily silent, King John stares wide-eyed and mutely at the girl.

Norah pointedly ignores her mother's hand coming to rest over both of her fists, clenched tightly in her lap as she addresses the corpulent monarch with hostility.

"Before we came into this room, my mother told me not to speak unless I was spoken to, and I meant to do as she said, but I have sat in this room and listened to your insults and disrespect for the three of us. I refuse to sit here and politely keep silent while you insult my father; a man you've never even laid eyes on."

Suddenly, she's on her feet. "Papa invited you here to talk with him out of respect for both you and your crown. For that, you have insinuated that he is a liar and you have called him weak. My mother showed you respect when she acknowledged your title, yet you refuse to acknowledge hers. I offered to shake your hand, like an equal, and you refused me. Okay, fine, but don't you dare call yourself superior to any of us, especially not my dad, because, buddy, you're not even in the same stratosphere with him! You ugly old toad!"

Henry's eyes widen almost imperceptibly, and Regina rises to her feet, draping an arm around her daughter's shoulders as she tries to wrestle the girl back down into her seat but, having none of it, Norah shakes her off.

Furious and red-faced, the monarch rises to his feet only to discover that he's barely ½ a head taller than the adolescent female hurling verbal punches at him. "Child, I assure you; you most certainly are not equal to me. For you to presume otherwise is nothing short of blasphemy. Your grandfather is a grown man. Do him the courtesy of letting him fight his own battles. He doesn't need some silly little girl coming to his defense… And as for your mother, she's a cold-hearted murderess, with a penchant for crushing hearts in her bare hands."

"And you think you're better than her? Look around you! This is your kingdom! Maybe the marchioness was supposed to oversee things here and report back to you, but either she hasn't been doing her job, or you just don't give a damn. That so-called rabble out there that you consider yourself too good to associate with, those are your people… your working-class people. Kingdoms either thrive or fail on the backs of people like that, and John, I hate to tell you this, but your people are dying! Your people are dying of exposure, poverty, and starvation. People do not die quickly or painlessly from those conditions. You may not have their blood on your hands, but your hands are stained with something just as ugly. They are stained with your own wretched apathy!"

Trembling violently, Norah stomps from the room, letting the door slam behind her before anyone can utter a single word.

Dazed, but intent on going after his livid granddaughter, Henry half rises from his chair only to be stalled by his daughter. "Stay here. I'll go. You…" Regina gestures aimlessly with her hands. "smooth things over with His Highness."

"As if things can be smoothed over." Elyria's ruler snaps belligerently.

Turning back at the open doorway, Regina shrugs. "He could just have you shot. Either way works for me."

"Regina…" The door closing: Henry calls out to her at the last possible second and she ducks back inside the room, an eyebrow raised inquiringly. "Don't be too hard on her, dear."

She stalls for a single fleeting moment and in that brief flicker of time Henry thinks she is going to say something but then the door closes, and she is gone.

"You are repeating past mistakes, Henry. It does not become you."

"I'm quite sure I don't know what you mean, John."

He points at the door. "You were always too lenient with her, too soft. You always did have too much faith in her. You let her go bad. I can't understand for the life of me why you didn't turn your back on her. Do try and not make the same mistakes with the next generation, won't you?"

Something behind Henry's usually friendly eyes goes hard and mean.

"First of all, I never 'let' Regina do a damn thing. Second, her life today proves beyond a shadow of the doubt that my faith in her was never out of place. You don't know what the hell you're talking about, John. How could you? You have no children. I don't owe you any explanation, but in the hope of enlightening you, let me say that it is not possible to love anyone more than I love my daughter. You can't even begin to comprehend the intensity of that love. Furthermore, the only people who will ever be worthy of a love equal to it are her children. So, until the day you find yourself with a profoundly intimate understanding of that love, I will thank you to keep your ill-informed parenting advice to yourself!"

King John bristles visibly. "Well…"

"Well, what?" Henry demands fiercely. "Are you going to make an effort to salvage what remains of this negotiation? Or should I abandon all hope, do as Regina suggested, and simply have you shot?"

The younger of the two monarchs raises an eyebrow in hesitation. He is silent for a long time before asking quietly, "What exactly is a stratosphere?"

Norah's grandfather squints, not quite ready to let go of his anger. "Really John? The crown princess of Covarrachia unleashes a verbal tirade on you, and that is the first question you want to ask?"

"I've never heard that word before. I have no clue what it means."

Henry sighs heavily and resigns himself to the tedious task at hand.

* * *

In the upstairs corridors of Thorncrest Hall, Regina searches for any sign of her daughter's whereabouts, quickly crossing paths with Aradia Crowley.

"Oh." The older redhead says with obvious surprise. "You made it back."

Regina peers around a corner before answering distractedly, "Yes, we did. Walk with me please."

The demigoddess finds the brunette's no-nonsense tone curious but falls willingly into step with her.

When Regina opens the door to an obviously vacant room filled with furniture covered in drop cloths and then closes the door dismissively, Aradia asks "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I'm looking for my daughter, but when I saw you a moment ago, I remembered, I'm supposed to tell you that Zelena and Eliana came back with me. They're waiting to meet you. I'll take you to them while I'm searching for Norah."

"Eliana?"

"You weren't kidding when you said you were out of the loop when it comes to Olympian gossip. Eliana is my niece. The teenage daughter of Hades and Zelena. You have a great-granddaughter and she's one of Hades' two favorite subjects. He crows about her to anyone within earshot, whether they want to listen or not."

Aradia smiles quizzically and wagers a guess. "His other favorite subject being… Her mother?"

"You catch on fast."

"Yes, well I haven't seen him for eons, but Hades is rumored to be rather garrulous when he finds something he likes. I think it comes from spending too many centuries alone in the dark with no one to talk to except for his henchmen. What are their names? Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dumb?"

Regina bites her lower lip in uncertainty. "Pain and Anguish… or something like that. I've never really paid attention to th…" She lets the final word fall away unsaid when she catches sight of the sly smile on Aradia's face. "Sorry, you were being facetious."

Aradia nods as they take a corner and the door to the north parlor becomes visible at the end of the hall.

Coming into view around another corner halfway between them and their destination, Beatrice stops talking when she realizes that the two women with her have fallen silent.

"Oh good. There you are. I didn't think you would make it this far for a while yet." Regina quickens her step, closing the gap between them as she addresses her sister. "Forgive the rush. I'm needed elsewhere." She touches both of their shoulders while Eliana and Beatrice look on, observing the impromptu introduction curiously. "Zelena… Aradia… and… I'll leave the rest to you."

She glides away with the four of them staring after her in wonder.

Zelena smiles uncomfortably. "Uh, well, hello, I guess."

Aradia smiles softly. "Hello, indeed. Does your sister ever slow down?"

"Rarely. To be perfectly honest, I have a hard time keeping up with her, but if you tell her I said that I will never speak to you again."

Aradia raises a curious eyebrow. "Tell her you said, what? I didn't hear a thing."

"Good. Maybe we should find the housekeeper and ask for a spot of coffee while we talk."

"I never touch the stuff unless it contains a generous splash of whiskey."

"Well, then we have at least one thing in common."

* * *

When Norah exits the house at a run, the anger and fear that contorts his daughter's pretty face alarms Robin and sets his feet into motion even before he says politely to the villager talking with him, "Pardon me, please. That's…" He points as he says, "She's my daughter." He hurries after her calling over his shoulder, "I'll be back with you momentarily."

The tall thin villager nods his understanding and, offering comfort, he pats the shoulder of the blonde child with worried green eyes who stands at his side; her inquisitive gaze traveling from Robin to Norah and then back to him again.

Robin dashes through the garden. Ignoring the stone walking path, he quick-steps over low shrubbery, dodging members of the crowd and calling after his daughter as he goes.

She doesn't stop.

At first, he doesn't even think she hears him, but after several seconds her pace slows marginally, and he gains ground.

While closing the distance that remains between them, Robin is only vaguely aware of the crowd and their prying eyes. He doesn't understand their shocked silence, or the few startled gasps that find their way to his ears until he has Norah within arm's length and Regina's calm, but commanding voice reaches out to their daughter from the door of the great house.

"Norah."

She still won't stop, but she finally slows to a walking pace and Robin reaches out for her. "Sweetheart."

She shakes his gentle hand off her shoulder and takes a few more ground-eating strides while her normally pragmatic mind tries to wrestle her heated emotions into submission.

Robin briefly hears the familiar but accelerated tip-tapping of his wife's heels against the garden's stone walkway some distance behind them.

"Norah Beatrice Locksley!" Regina demands. "I am nine months pregnant. I will not chase you! You will stop!"

Norah growls in anger then groans in frustration, but she finally does stop, her mother's tone rooting her firmly in place.

Robin finally comes to a stop beside his daughter and stands there quietly waiting for her to turn and acknowledge either of them. He doesn't turn around until she does and they both find Regina standing 50 feet behind them with her hands on her hips and exasperation clearly visible in her eyes.

They watch her inhale deeply, lower her arms to her sides and set out to close the gap between them with forced calm and measured strides.

Robin drapes an arm around Norah's shoulders and studies her angry defiant face for a long moment before he whispers soothingly. "What's wrong? What happened?"

The grimace she offers him is molten hot, but he detects a noticeable dash of contrition in her voice when she admits quietly. "I messed up, Daddy."

Robin squints even as he nods. "Okay. That happens. We'll fix it."

She shakes her head. "I don't see how. Even if it can be fixed, I don't want to."

Regina traverses the space between them with all eyes on her, her mouth set in a grim thin line of disapproval, and the ghosts of every brutal argument she ever had with her mother reverberating through her heart and mind; their dark shadows inflicting fresh trauma with every step she takes.

"Well…" Regina comes to a stop. "there was most certainly a better way to handle that, young lady."

Norah crosses her arms over her chest, and with fire in her eyes, she quietly declares, "I am not apologizing to him. I am not sorry for what I said. I meant every word."

Regina nods solemnly. "Glad to hear it. You should never say anything you don't mean."

Not really listening, Norah continues, her voice and temper rising to meet expected opposition. "Mom, how could you? How could you just sit there calmly and take his insults… his contempt?" She clenches her fists. "I…"

Regina nods again. "I know."

"That man…" Norah trembles; her speech truncated by her rage.

Regina hums. "Umm hmm."

"He's an ass!"

Regina sighs with forced patience and waits.

"I thought people who wore crowns were supposed to have a basic understanding of the concept of diplomacy, or at the very least the concept of personal responsibility!"

Regina takes her by the arm and starts walking again, forcing her daughter to walk alongside her in order to stay upright. "I think most of us are forced to study it at an early age. And speaking of diplomacy…" She gestures discreetly to the crowd of alarmed and curious Elyrian villagers around them. "lower your voice, please."

Stunned, the teenager stops walking and jerks her arm free of her mother's grasp in the same moment that Regina's uncharacteristically calm demeanor finally begins to register in her mind. Perplexed, Norah stares as though her mother has suddenly become a curious oddity.

Regina watches her daughter watch her. After several long silent seconds, she raises an eyebrow. "Are you done?"

Norah scowls. "Not even close! That…"

Regina interrupts by holding a finger to her own lips. "Quietly."

Shocked and irritated, Norah stutters, "That… Wait. You're not mad at me?"

"For what? Standing up in defense of people you care about? Or, for standing up in defense of total strangers, for that matter? You could have expressed your outrage in a more acceptable manner, but no. I'm not angry with you, Norah."

"But I… You told me not to… And I… I totally lost it. I called him a toad! I haven't called anybody that since I was eight… Well, at least not to their face."

Robin still doesn't know exactly what transpired, but he chews on his lower lip to keep from grinning ear to ear.

Regina shoots him a silent look of warning, so ominous that it chases away his smile and nearly makes him flinch before she offers "Okay, so… You’re very articulate. You just need a little… polish."

"Polish? Mom! I…" Norah gestures erratically.

"I thought you weren't sorry." Regina inquires patiently.

"I'm not! Not for what I said, only the way I went about it. If I embarrassed you… Mom, I didn't mean to do that. I just…"

Regina shakes her head. "Embarrassed me? He wasn't lying to you Norah when he mentioned the things I've done in my past. His words may not have been kind, but that doesn't mean they weren't accurate."

"I don't care. He's an ass!" Norah hisses quietly but vehemently.

Regina nods in conciliation. "My point is… given what he told you, do you really think I've never lost my temper? That I've never said inappropriate things to the wrong people?"

Norah visibly relaxes for ½ a second before a new fear comes to mind and widens her eyes with dread and the shimmer of unshed tears. "Mom, if I humiliated Papa…"

Abruptly turning to face her daughter, Regina adamantly shakes her head as she grips the girl by the shoulders. "No. Hey, stop. Honey, you don't have to go there. That man still loves me. Nobody could have possibly done more to hurt or humiliate him than I did, and he literally refuses to give up on me. There is absolutely nothing you can do to ever fall from grace with him. You are exalted."

Norah looks at the toes of her polished leather riding boots. "I don't deserve to be. Especially not after that."

Regina shrugs and wraps her arms around the girl. "So, that only means you've got something to reach for."

"But how bad did I screw things up? Did I just start a war between two kingdoms?"

Regina chuckles as she kisses the top of her daughter's head and whispers, "We already know John's got ice in his veins, but I sincerely doubt he will initiate war between Elyria and Covarrachia unless he also has rocks in his head."

Norah makes the kind of miserable sound that people make when they can't decide whether to laugh or groan in frustration. "But Mom…"

Regina sidesteps her daughter's objection with the resolute shake of her head. "Norah, it doesn't matter what you said to him. He's a grown man. If he chooses to go to war over the impassioned words of an angry young woman, the responsibility for that choice is his, not yours. If he doesn't understand that; he's not fit to rule any kingdom."

Norah thinks it over and then nods before whispering, "Okay, that makes sense… but I don't like him. He's an insult to the human race, and I'm still not apologizing to him."

"I don't expect you to but, Norah, for future reference…"

"I'm guessing that, if I value my own existence, calling the sovereign leader of any kingdom a toad to his face should probably be avoided."

"Smart girl."

"Can I go find Eliana?"

"She's a bit busy right now. I introduced her and Zelena to Aradia a few minutes ago, but they're probably in the north parlor. I'm sure they'll let you quietly interrupt if you must."

Norah trots away, her mood much lighter.

Regina turns, watching her go until she disappears from view inside the house. Only then does she step into Robin's loose embrace, where she groans drolly, and then buries her face in the curve of his neck to smother the sound of her own laughter.

Robin squints as he holds his wife close and whispers, "She didn't really…"

He feels Regina nod even before he hears her muffled, "Oh, yes… she did."

"But why?"

"John was rude and belligerent. To her credit, she sat quietly and let him insult Daddy, me, even her; but when he implied that you might be worthy of anything less than sainthood, she stood up, spoke up, and told him precisely what she thinks of him and his mismanagement of this kingdom."

"Good for her!"

"Robin!" Regina hisses. "Do not let her hear you say things like that! She's likely to take it as encouragement, or even worse, permission! People like John; royals who are used to enjoying and abusing their own power - like I used to be. People like that would see her thrown in a dungeon and convicted of treason for such words."

Robin's smile ceases to exist. His mirth evaporates immediately, and he breathes quietly, for her ears only. "I'd kill him first."

"Not if I beat you to it."

* * *

Aradia sips her coffee and returns the wide-brimmed china cup precisely to the center of its saucer before making the kind of honest statement that most people would erroneously call self-deprecating.

"I've heard it said among what appears to be some of the more intelligent mortals, that the lesser ones have been known to provide great entertainment for the gods with all of their foolishness. For me to laugh at those lesser mortals, I think, would be in very bad taste. I seem to fit quite well among them."

Zelena studies her for a silent beat before asking, "Why do you say that?"

"Because, I dispatched my father for what I reasoned was my mother's well-being, got myself exiled for taking the trouble to do it, and then, once earthbound, I went and fell in love, and then preceded to marry a man not all that different from my father. If you told me that none of the family had a good laugh at my expense over that one, I'd call you a liar to your face. The only difference was that Ezra Hendershot couldn't legitimately be called evil. For Ezra, being evil would've been too much work. I'm afraid your grandfather revealed himself to be self-serving with a deplorable lack of integrity. The former I can forgive. The latter, not so much."

Zelena's squints curiously. "Then why did you marry him?"

Aradia eyes Eliana for a moment before answering. Deciding the teen is old enough for the truth, she admits candidly, "For the sex."

She smiles and reaches to her left to pat her sputtering great-granddaughter on the back when the girl nearly chokes on a piece of biscotti in response.

"Once I wised up and left him, I had to make it a point to avoid him. Even years later, every time our paths crossed we wound up in bed together." Aradia shrugs. Some men have it. Some don't. Even at 84, that man could still ignite a fire in my loins."

Eliana searches Aradia's face and then scowls. "I can't tell if you loved him or if you hated him."

"Both. There were times he made me so happy it was disgusting, but he was a charlatan, a scoundrel. He'd sell his own mother if the price was right. His loyalty always went to the highest bidder. That's what I couldn't live with. We'd get together, spend a few glorious days in bed, life was always good until we started talking. As long as he didn't talk, I could tolerate him. Unfortunately, the man loved to talk. Once he started, I'd toss him out with yesterday's garbage, and swear never to let him cross my threshold again, time would go by, he'd show up, flash that smile that always did me in, and we'd sizzle… hot enough to blister the paint on the bedroom walls. Too little too late, I realized that our intermittent fondness for one another was not good for our son. Jonathan idolized his father, and the boy was hell-bent to be like him in every way."

Picking up on verbiage Zelena pushes her coffee aside. "Past tense? He's gone then?"

Aradia nods, a solemn and slightly misty light glowing in the depths of her eyes. "That he is. One way or another. Although, if you're asking if he's gone in the corporeal sense, even I can't say for sure. No one has seen him for years. If he is still among the living, your father is hidden so well that even I can't find him."

Zelena raises an eyebrow. "But you said he was non-magical."

Aradia nods. "Perhaps it was the cosmos' way of keeping things in balance. If your father had access to even a fraction of the power that flows through the family bloodline, I'm sorry to say no good would come of it. No good at all."

"There are those who do no good, and they still have power."

"Yes, and even without enough good to turn away from the darkness within, those people still have limits; limits they impose on themselves for whatever reasons. As his mother, it pains me to admit this. It pains me more than I can say, but I don't believe my son is capable of imposing limits on himself."

"If even you can't find him, then he has to be somehow cloaked."

"I agree. My heart argues that if he really were dead, no spell would be strong enough to continue to hide him from me. I'd know, but perhaps that's only a mother's wish."

Eliana squints. "Then, he has to be alive. Doesn't he? Who could be powerful enough to hide him that well?"

Aradia pats the back of her hand. "There are a select few."

"Who could hide him even from you?"

"I'm afraid so, dear. Either he met his end, or he's very well hidden, either by his own choice or someone else's. I cannot say which."

All three of them turn expectantly in response to a knock at the door and Zelena is the first to speak. "Yes?"

The door opens only a few inches and Norah pokes her head in with a slight smile. "Hi, Aunt Zelena. Can I steal Eliana away for a bit?"

A quiet look goes around the table before Zelena shrugs. "That's up to Eliana."

Norah's cousin half-rises from her seat before pausing with a moment's indecision. She looks to Aradia. "You're not leaving any time soon are you?"

"That's doubtful. I'll be traveling with the group at least until your friend is born, probably a few days after."

"So, we'll have more time to talk?"

Aradia nods. "Go have some fun."

"Okay, thanks. Bye, Mom! If you need me…" Eliana shrugs. "I'll know." Moving quickly, she drains a teacup, scowls in response to the bitter taste, and helps herself to a couple of linen napkins and a dessert plate piled with a few biscotti for the road. Then, she turns, and the two girls disappear from the room just as quickly as Norah appeared.

Aradia chuckles. "Such energy."

Zelena nods. "If I need her… She'll know?"

"By the power of omnipotence. Apparently, she's already learned how to handle hers."

"I can't do that… Or can I?"

"I'm not sure. It's likely that you can't do it because you didn't know you had the option, at least not until very recently. It takes time to learn how to access it. Once you do, it'll take more time to learn how to filter out all the extraneous stuff, which is something most of us find considerably more difficult than learning how to access it in the first place. You must learn to be selective about what you tune into, otherwise the constant presence of everyone and everything will drive you mad."

"Please, tell me you don't mean that literally."

"I'm afraid I do."

"Oh, joy!"

* * *

Eliana opens an exterior door and pokes her head out surveying her immediate surroundings before announcing, "Good, there's no one out here except for a gorgeous black cat. C'mon."

Norah steps out onto the wide second-floor balcony and walks straight to the stone railing. She looks it over carefully checking for signs of obvious structural damage and then when she sees no cause for alarm, she gives it a good kick, testing its fortitude. Satisfied that it won't crumble beneath her weight, she perches there with her right knee drawn up under her chin, and her left foot dangling 6 inches off the balcony floor. She settles in and rests her back against one of the support columns. From there, she takes in the view for herself before turning her attention to the feline Eliana mentioned. "Hello, cat."

The cat walks to the railing and jumps up effortlessly, settling herself a few inches away from Norah and studying the brunette with the curiosity of one who knows things.

Eliana approaches the railing long enough to hand her a linen napkin the color of dark chocolate, along with two of the treats she brought along for them to share, then she quickly backs away.

"I wish you wouldn't do that?"

Already knowing the answer to her question, Norah shrugs innocently. "Do what?"

Eliana rolls her eyes. "You know what. At least back home you have magic."

"What does that have to do with anything here?"

Eliana helps herself to one of the cushioned benches against the wall of the house. "If we were back home and you fell off that thing you could at least transport yourself safely to the ground. Norah, you can't do that here. You don't have any magic, remember?"

Norah shrugs. "First of all, I've never fallen off a porch railing, not once in my life, thank you very much. Second, this thing is 2 ½ feet wide. It's not like I'm perched somewhere standing on tiptoe with no room to breathe. There are several inches on either side of me." She gestures as she talks. "It's nice and sturdy, I made sure."

Eliana breathes deeply. "This is not a porch. It's a balcony!"

"Same thing. It's a place to sit outside a house."

"It is not the same thing! Your back porch is not 30 feet off the ground."

Norah peers over the edge and then smiles like the Cheshire cat in Wonderland, which only irritates her cousin all the more, especially when she says, "That's not 30 feet. It's at least 40."

"Oh good! Then you'll shatter into even more pieces when you hit the ground."

"Bodies do not shatter. Bodies hit the ground from this height with a very finite thud. Glass shatters. Do I look like I'm made of glass?"

"No, smart ass, you don't. But you don't look invincible either!"

"What are you complaining about? You're over there safe and sound. Why are you scared? Even if you were over here with me, you do have magic. You have nothing to worry about."

"Okay, fine, be stupid, risk your life."

"The point I'm trying to make is, you're the only one who thinks it's a risk. I'm not going to fall."

"What if you're wrong? What if you do fall?"

"Then I give you permission to boycott my funeral. Your final 'I told you so."

"Oh good, that makes me feel so much better."

Norah grins. "You're welcome!"

"Shut it, Norah."

Shrugging, Norah breaks the end off a piece of biscotti and feeds it to the cat, who sniffs carefully before choosing to accept."

"The cat doesn't have a name?"

"Her name's Cleo."

"But you said, 'hello cat,' like either that was her name or like you didn't know her name."

"Her name is Cleo, but Lord Eldebury, that's who lives here, he's a bit mental. Most of the time he calls her 'cat,' as if that were her name. Maybe because sometimes he forgets… I'm just guessing. He's much better than when we first got here, but he's not always lucid. Seems like I picked up the habit, but Cleo doesn't seem to mind. I like the marquis though. He's funny. Sometimes he calls Mom 'little princess' or 'little Regina' because that's the way he remembers her from way back when, I guess."

Eliana snorts softly. "Oh, Aunt Regina hates that."

Norah nods. "She hasn't said so, but I definitely get that feeling. So… You met Aradia."

"Yeah, we had tea. Well, I had tea. They had coffee with a little something extra in it."

"You hate tea."

"It seemed appropriate to go along with them."

"See, that's the part I'm no good at. I'm not going to sit there and do something I hate doing just for the sake of propriety."

"You're just stubborn."

"You're oversimplifying it. You're being groomed to rule an empire. It's your empire. Why not make your own rules? Do the job. That's fine. But don't sit there and drink tea that you hate just because it's what every empress before you has done.

"This had nothing to do with being groomed. She's my great-grandmother."

"What's she like?"

"She seems cool. I get the feeling she's a free spirit. She's older than Dad. She has to be."

"Why does that matter?"

"Apparently, she likes sex."

Norah squints. "Don't most adults?"

"Seems like she loved her husband, although I can't really say she liked him. She married him for the sex. She admits it… in those exact words."

"She sounds like a party waiting to happen."

"But she's old."

"So. You and I, we weren't delivered by the stork, you know. We weren't hatched, El."

"I know that. I'd rather not think about it, but I know."

"So, what's the big deal?"

"I told you. She's old. Really old. She was probably around when Uncle Zeus was a boy. You just don't know how strange it is to accidentally walk in on your parents when they are in the middle of it."

"Obviously not, no. Wait? You do? You were only four when Aunt Zelena died."

"I know, but trust me, it's not something you forget. I wasn't even old enough to understand what I saw, but I haven't forgotten."

Norah shrugs again. "Maybe that would make a difference. I don't know. It doesn't bother me."

"There isn't much that does bother you, Norah."

"It's a little strange going clothes shopping with my mother before I've even been born. Good, but strange. And, being here watching all the other people who are literally just standing around waiting for me to be born. Most people cannot claim that they are cognitively aware of their own birth."

"If things go the way you want, you won't be either. You won't remember this."

Norah nods. "And that's weird too, sitting here talking about things we won't remember in a place we've never been before, but if all goes according to plan, we will grow up here or at least have knowledge of this place. Thinking about it makes my head hurt."

"But thinking about my great-grandmother having sex doesn't faze you at all."

"Meh, not really, no." Norah rubs the purring cat's head and munches thoughtfully. "I hope Daddy sticks around. Keeps an eye on this place, maybe even if things don't work out with Mom. It's a pretty piece of land, or at least it would be with the right care."

"Never mind the land. When you came knocking a little while ago, you had that look on your face."

"What look?"

"The same look you had when you were 12 after you started feeling guilty for pushing David Nolan off the docks in Storybrooke. What happened? What did you do? Who did you tell off this time? Somebody's not walking around soaking wet, are they?"

"He deserved it. He said something ugly about Mom."

"I remember. I also remember you feeling guilty about it later, even though he deserved it."

"It wasn't a very nice thing for me to do. I lost my temper. I shouldn't have. You get mad, you lose half your intelligence. I shouldn't let people control me that way."

"So, what'd you do this time?"

"Basically, I called King John a lousy ruler… To his face." Norah cringes.

"Of course, you did." Eliana snickers quietly.

Norah wrinkles her nose. It's not funny, El."

Eliana shrugs, "It's a little funny."

Norah shakes her head woefully, "I also called him a toad."

"You did not!"

"I did. But in less than 10 minutes time he insulted half the people in my family. He was about to insult Daddy."

"Oh well then, the gloves come off. I know, my dad is no angel..."

The two girls look at each other and crow in harmony. "But, damn it, he's my dad. Back off!"

* * *

Hours after sunset Robin collapses into bed beside his sleeping wife. Tugging the blankets over himself, he turns onto his side and softly touches her belly. When he feels their daughter's immediate response, he quickly withdrawals in an effort not to disturb Regina's slumber, but she murmurs softly.

"I'm sorry. Go back to sleep, love."

She hums sleepily. "What time is it."

"Late, nearly midnight. I shouldn't have touched you. Go back to sleep."

"It's good for her to know you're here. You have many more people to see?"

Robin grunts softly in the affirmative. "We can't seem to get an accurate headcount. More people showed up today. Along with most of the ones we didn't see yesterday."

"Did you talk with the Lady Eldebury at all today?"

Robin shakes his head in the darkness, unseen by Regina who hasn't bothered to open her eyes. "But I suppose I should. The old man seems to have figured out who I am… In relation to her, I mean."

"Who told him?"

Robin shrugs, "Not me. Your father maybe?"

Regina's brow furrows. "I don't know, maybe, but I can't think why he would unless he did it just for the sake of being honest. At this stage in the game, doing so seems counterproductive, and that's not like Daddy. Has the marquis's behavior toward you changed?"

Robin squints, "If anything, he's treating me less like a stranger. Earlier today, I thought I saw a brief flicker of resentment in his eyes, but he never acted on it. I think he's more curious than hurt or angry."

"He's had more than a few years to get used to the idea of your existence. Perhaps whatever resentment he feels is aimed more at his wife… as it should be. There's definitely a space between the two of them."

Robin chuckles and kisses his wife's forehead. "I've heard of understatements before, but Regina there's a chasm deep enough to hold all of Tartarus between the two of them. I've been blessed, and cursed, enough to have two wives. The thought of referring to either one of you as a cow…" Robin shakes his head. "I can't even begin to fathom how much loathing a man must feel in order to refer to his wife as if she were livestock. It's beyond sad."

"At least he acknowledges her, even if in a less than appropriate manner. She doesn't refer to him at all. I've yet to hear her even speak his name. That's no way to live. Leopold and I were like that. Existing in the same cold palace, neither one of us paying any mind to the other. The only time I got his attention at all were the times he thought I'd done something inappropriate for a wife. Even then, his solution was to lock me away in a place where he didn't have to look at me, much less deal with me."

"You did give him a pretty bad time."

"I certainly did. But I can't imagine you doing that. You'd fight with me."

"Because I know you're capable of better."

"That's it, in a nutshell. You believe in me. He never did. Though, to be fair, I didn't believe in him either. It's not a good way to live."

"Tomorrow's another day. We'll get to as many as we can."

"You running short on supplies yet?"

"No, we aren't. I'm afraid to express just how angry that makes me. I wish we were too."

"Too?"

Robin nods in the dark. "You sounded hopeful when you asked."

"Not because I don't want you to help these people. Because I feel like the clock is winding down, or maybe it's me that's winding down. I don't want to give birth here, Robin."

Robin half groans and half chuckles. "The plan is to get you home, but if you'll recall mi'lady, I didn't want to come here at all. You insisted. Remember?"

"I know that. I'm not pushing for home. I'll settle for Covarrachia. I mean specifically that I don't want to give birth in this house. There's something very wrong here, Robin. You'll fix it. I know you will. But, I have this feeling… You can't fix it in time for her arrival. Not all of it. I want her as far away from this house as we can possibly get her."

Robin's quiet for a long beat before admitting, "I can't remember the last time I heard fear in your voice."

Regina's so quiet that, for a moment, he thinks she's fallen back to sleep and then he must strain to hear her when she says, "I am scared. Not of dying. I've been to the underworld twice. I know what to expect. I'm scared for her… Our girl. I don't want her born here… Not in this house. I can't explain why."

Robin folds his arms around her. "I'm told it's only natural for women to develop a bad case of nerves in the days immediately prior to birth. You'd be justified even without the shroud of impending death hanging over you."

"That's all you think it is? Just nerves? I'm just being hormonal?"

"I didn't say that Regina. That's not what I meant at all. I've seen you manage too many wondrous things. You'll manage this too, but if you, of all people, can complain about a bad feeling, I'm inclined to listen. We'll leave just as soon as I figure out what to do with all these people."

Regina yawns. "You need a cabinet."

Robin squints. "How, may I ask, is a little bit of woodwork going to help with this?"

Regina chuckles and swats at him sleepily in the darkness. "Not that kind of cabinet. You need to form a committee, a group or council of your most trusted allies and advisers, people you can rely upon to carry out your plans and wishes. Kings and queens have them; why shouldn't you?"

"I already have one of those."

Regina finally opens her eyes wide with surprise. "You do? You've been even busier than I thought."

"Sure, I do. They call themselves the merry men."

Regina chuckles softly. "Just don't leave Tuck in charge of food distribution, or Will Scarlett in charge of public relations."

Robin laughs. Tuck won't mind you saying that. Will, on the other hand…"

"Yes… He's a bit excitable. Which is precisely why he doesn't need to be left in charge of anything that requires a cool head."

"I wish I could say you're wrong, but if I leave those two in charge, the village will have money, but all of its people will be half-starved and profoundly inebriated."

Regina chuckles softly in agreement. "Alan is honest without being harsh, and he's clever enough not to put his own heightened intellect on display. That makes him good with people. The choices are yours to make, but I'd look closely at him and consider leaving Little John in charge of security. He's big enough, and skilled enough, to be a one-man brute squad but he's not quick-tempered. Maybe ask their advice on who they think would be best suited to work with them. Anyone particularly frugal-minded might be best suited for supply and food distribution."

"That would be Percival. He seems to have a head for knowing when to hold things in reserve as well as when to be generous."

Regina nods and then groans with displeasure. Tossing the blankets aside, she struggles to her feet and makes her way across the room to their private water closet; bumping her swollen belly into furniture more than once along the way in the darkened room that she hasn't had time to become familiar with.

Robin bites his lower lip to keep from chuckling in response to her quiet but hostile grumbling as she goes. Moments later, when she returns, he finds her still grumbling half-coherently and smiles as she gets back into bed and tosses about until she finds the least uncomfortable position, before finally resting her head against his shoulder.

"Shut up, Robin"

Surprised, he objects fervently. "I didn't say a word!"

"You think you have to? I can hear you laying there not laughing."

He lifts his head off the pillow and squints down at the crown of her head in the thin stream of moonlight that seeps through the sheer billowing curtains over the open bedroom window as she swats at his shoulder with yet another objection.

"Stop looking at me that way and be still! Pillows aren't supposed to move on their own."

"The fact that I had the presence of mind not to actually laugh aloud counts for nothing at all, does it?"

"No, it doesn't. Be still!"

"I think you need to go back to sleep."

Regina grimaces. "I might… If you be quiet and still, and if our daughter stops elbowing my bladder."

Robin cranes his neck awkwardly and drops a light soothing kiss on her head before settling in once more.

Regina grumbles irritably one last time in response to his movement before delivering her own brusque kiss to his chest and closing her eyes.


	20. Chapter 20

* * *

**Elyria**

**Thorncrest Hall**

**Present Day**

Shortly before six the next morning Regina wakes, surprised to find herself alone in bed. She knows he's been gone a while when she finds his side of the bed cool beneath her touch. Struggling to rise, she uses her right fist in an unsuccessful attempt to rub out the dull ache in her lower back that seems to have taken up permanent residence. She moves through her morning routine, showering and dressing as quickly as possible under her present circumstances. Then, surprised to find herself nauseous for the first time in months, she opts for ginger tea and two slices of dry toast only to become annoyed with herself when she can only force down one.

Glancing down at her own well-rounded middle, she complains quietly, "You can have more later if you stop making me sick."

"I'm sorry."

Regina looks up to find the dark apologetic eyes of her daughter watching her from the doorway of the breakfast room and tries to soften her words even as she snaps. "Norah, stop apologizing!

The girl's eyes widen in surprise. "People should apologize if they do something wrong, Mom."

Regina frowns slightly and forces herself to take a moment to think her next words through before speaking them. "Only if the apology will bring comfort to the person you're offering it to. There are times when it won't, and Norah, you apologize far too often in general - and for things that are beyond your control. This is one thing you never have to be sorry for. I don't want an apology for the fact that you exist… Not now, Not ever."

"I didn't mean it like that."

"You have to learn to give some thought to how your words will be perceived before you speak them…" Regina tilts her head to one side as she puts herself in check. "but then, I struggle with that one myself."

"Really?" Norah inquires doubtfully.

Regina nods. "Like right now. You're worried I'm angry with you because I spoke sharply. I'm not. I'm just irritated with myself and a little embarrassed because being nauseous is a normal part of pregnancy, and you caught me complaining when I shouldn't."

"You can complain if you want." Norah wrinkles her nose and says softly, "You do look rather uncomfortable."

"I am, but I made the choice to be. It's a choice I would make all over again. And, going forward, you are not allowed to apologize for it. Understand?"

Norah smiles. "Got it."

"Good. Now, come have some breakfast. Maybe you can eat this piece of toast for me while you're at it."

Norah moves to the serving table and selects a plate for herself as she laughs. "I will if you want me to, but Mom, I don't think it works that way. Putting food into my stomach probably won't fill…" She squints, momentarily at a loss for the proper pronoun and then chooses instead, "the one I had nearly 17 years ago."

Regina nods, recognizing the truth when she hears it, but rises to her feet to cross the room and drop the piece of uneaten dry toast on her daughter's plate. "Do as you're told." She whispers, just as Eliana breezes into the room with a cherry "Good morning."

Regina snags a large Macintosh apple from a crystal fruit stand before she exits the room with Norah chuckling softly and shaking her head as Eliana looks on in mild confusion.

* * *

Outside, Regina easily spots Robin in the crowd and steps up beside him behind a long row of large wooden tables where the thin blond woman at the head of the line gives Regina a look of tightly controlled panic and waits, momentarily paralyzed, like a wide-eyed deer caught in oncoming headlights, for catastrophe to unfold.

Catching the scent of his wife's perfume, Robin's lips curve into a smile and without turning away from his work he offers, "Morning, mi'lady."

"What time did you get up this morning?" Regina pretends not to notice the blonde waif's terror-stricken eyes.

"Before the sun did."

"Was breakfast ready that early?"

Robin shakes his head. "Pillaged the kitchens. The boys and I helped ourselves to some bread and cheese."

"Is that all? Dawn was almost three hours ago. Are you hungry?"

"A wee bit."

Regina hands over the apple, and when the other woman's mouth falls open in horror, Robin grins and takes an indulgent bite from the tart two-toned fruit.

While he munches, he crates a 10-pound sack of flour, 2 pounds of sugar, a bolt of heavy wool fabric, an assortment of fruits and vegetables, and a half side of pork, and then signals to one of his men.

Will Scarlett quickly approaches, and Robin makes the necessary introductions. "Will is going to escort you to your wagon and carry the crate for you." Robin passes her a basket of eggs that have been carefully nestled in straw, he smiles and winks. "Don't worry about the apple. It's completely harmless."

The frail woman clothed in her best set of rags looks as if she has serious doubts about the condition of the fruit, but she smiles politely and offers him a demure and heartfelt "Thank you sir." before turning and forcing herself to walk calmly away.

Regina watches her go before telling him quietly. "I think I'd better go back inside. Something tells me that my presence will only slow you down."

He offers her a tender glance as the next person, a lean man with graying beard stubble, steps up to the head of the line. "Pack your things. We leave for Covarrachia after dinner this afternoon. Trix will help you. And… maybe you could check on Cecelia for me?"

Regina thinks it over and as she offers him a light kiss she whispers, "Only for you."

She steps away, and Robin returns his attention to the task at hand just as a vaguely familiar blonde child with curious green eyes calls out happily, "Mr. Robin!" and hurries pell-mell around the end of the table only to plow into Regina on her way to him.

Regina reaches out for the girl, too late to steady her and she falls backward, catching herself and scraping her hands against the rough garden stones.

Her father rushes to her defense. Kneeling beside his child, he implores frightfully, "She's only a child. She meant no harm. Please don't hurt her, Your Majesty."

Regina shakes her head as she smiles and offers the girl a hand up. "Are you alright? Have you hurt yourself?"

Because the incongruity between the queen's smile and her father's words confuses her, the child squints in uncertainty. "I'm alright." She answers hesitantly. She has a look for herself and then the girl holds out her small hand for inspection. "See, it's only a scrape."

Regina gently touches the flesh around the scraped area. "I don't think it's a serious wound, but it is seeping blood, and I bet it stings a bit, doesn't it? I would offer to heal it for you, but I'm afraid that's not a good idea right now. We better let Mr. Robin have a look at it. I'm sure he has something in the way of first-aid."

Robin retrieves his satchel from beneath the table and kneels in front of the small girl. "You bet I do. The queen and I, we have a little boy about your age. He moves like the wind and he knocks himself around quite a bit. So, I always have a bandage and some ointment at the ready. Normally, Regina's right good at healing his scrapes and scratches, but for now, her magic is a bit muddled."

The little girl's green eyes go wide with curious delight. "She has magic?"

"That, she does." Robin assures as he extracts a small silver tin from a pocket of his satchel and opens it to reveal a small collection of paper-wrapped bandages and a small tube of anti-bacterial salve.

"How come her magic don't work good right now?"

Robin shakes his head and lifts one shoulder in an easy shrug.

The girl's father watches Robin and the queen's every move with great concern.

Skillfully distracting the small blonde, Robin patiently explains while he renders aid, "I don't really understand why things aren't working so well for her at the moment. I only know that it has something to do with our baby." He nods his head casually toward Regina's belly and the little girl smiles brightly. "I'm afraid our little imp may have a fondness for fireworks." Robin stretches his friendly blue eyes wide. "Of late, whenever Regina tries to do something magical, there's a better than average chance that sparks are going to fly."

"You mean she sets things on fire?"

Robin nods in all seriousness. "And when she's not doing that, she steals my food!"

"Well… that's okay. Mama isn't going to have a baby and she still does that to Papa. At least the queen brings you apples to eat when you're hungry."

"She does do that. I remember you from yesterday, right?"

The child nods. "My name is Angela. You gave my papa a job. I came back to say thank you. Mama is at our new house right now unpacking all of our things."

Robin nods as he shakes the man's hand then, he pats the top of the little blonde's head. "Do you like your new house?"

Angela nods and shrugs simultaneously. It's kind of messy right now, and three of the windowpanes are broken, but Papa says he can fix them, and Mama will make the house look real pretty. She says she just needs time."

"Then, I'm sure she will manage it." Robin returns his attention to Angela's father. "I will send a couple of my men out with you to measure and see that the windowpanes are replaced before nightfall."

"That isn't necessary, Mr. Locksley. As long as I have work and steady wages, I can see to it myself."

"I understand. What if we agree to deduct the cost for the windowpanes from your first week's pay? It gets damp here at night despite the warmth. My men will come out and help you install the panes at no extra charge. It won't do to have Angela, or her mum taken sick by the night air, Mr. Dorsey."

Dorsey looks down at his daughter's upturned eager little face and nods reluctantly.

"Right then. It's a deal and… You are good to go, mi'lady."

The little girl squints and stares at the palm of her newly bandaged hand. "You're done already? That didn't even hurt a little bit." She gently picks at the band-aid. "Hey, what kind of bandage is this? It sticks to me!"

"Don't pick at it. You'll loosen it before you need to. That's a bandage from my realm. Don't worry. It will come off the next time you have a bath. The stuff that makes it stick stops working when it gets wet. Let Mama change it for a couple of days, and you will be good as new."

Angela puts her new bandage on display for her father's approval. "See Papa, it's OK."

The man smiles tentatively. "Thank you kindly, Mr. Locksley." He shakes Robin's hand again. Come on, now Angela-girl. I've got work to do and I best get you home before your ma starts looking for you. He bows slightly. "Good day, Majesty, and thank you."

Regina nods as the small girl places her uninjured hand in her father's and trots away beside him, turning back to wave happily, "Bye-bye Mr. Robin."

Robin returns her wave as Regina murmurs quietly. "I think somebody has a new hero. I'm going to have to get you some tights to go with that cape of yours."

Robin scowls comically, causing the man with colorless whiskers at the head of the line to laugh boisterously when he answers her in avid disagreement, "I don't think so, mi'lady."

Chuckling softly, Regina touches his shoulder in unspoken farewell and leaves him to his work.

* * *

A few hours later, she taps quietly on the door to the master bedroom and waits for a softly spoken and somewhat raspy invitation before entering.

From the center of what is to become her deathbed, Cecelia Eldebury eyes Regina with unmistakable scorn. "You're still here?"

"Not for much longer." Regina smiles coolly.

Lady Eldebury matches her tone; one of cold civility born of propriety. "How can I speed you on your way?"

"We will be gone soon enough."

"Will you return?"

"It's unlikely that I will… Unless I'm given a reason to do so. I cannot speak for Robin."

"I was led to believe that you genuinely are his wife. Don't you know your husband's mind well enough to wager a guess as to which direction his inclination lies?"

Regina chuckles drolly and returns fire. "You're hardly in a position to make insinuations about the state of my marriage. Do you know your husband's mind well enough to know which direction his inclination lies?"

The old woman waves the question aside and coughs feebly. "My husband's mind has more holes in it than a sieve. I sincerely doubt he knows who I am anymore."

"Oh, I assure you, he does. I've had quite a few interesting conversations with him. His condition has improved remarkably since my father began overseeing his care two days ago."

"Your father is here? Why was I not told of his arrival?"

Regina shrugs. "I can't answer that, Lady Eldebury. You'll have to ask your staff. I believe King John is also still in residence, but I cannot swear to it. I have not been graced with his presence since yesterday afternoon."

"The King? He is here?"

"Yes, Your Ladyship. He was in conference with my father and your husband yesterday for quite some time."

"Why?"

"I believe they were discussing the welfare of Elyria; more specifically, their hopes for future prosperity here."

"Without me? That's preposterous. Frederic's title is afforded only by his marriage to me. He has no right to discuss such things… and his mind… He's too far gone!"

"Lady Eldebury, when was the last time you were in the same room with your husband for more than ten seconds?"

The old woman scowls hideously. "That's none of your business."

"He's not as addle-pated as you seem to think he is. With the proper care and a little patience, he's been quite indispensable, helping the king and my father decide what is to become of Elyria."

"Never mind Frederic! Why should His Grace confer with your father?"

Regina shrugs again. "Possibly to avoid the atrocities of war."

"Which, no doubt, you would have been in favor of."

Regina laughs callously. "I have more important things to worry about just now, Cecilia. Besides men have been disregarding the atrocities of war since the beginning of time; most of them have been quite content to do so without any encouragement from me."

"Will the boy accept his place here, his title?"

"He's not a boy, Cecelia. He hasn't been for a long time. But, yes, I believe Robin will, at some point in the not too distant future, accept his title. If not, he certainly is going to a lot of trouble; not for his own benefit but for that of your people."

"Can't you talk some sense into him? Hurry him along?"

"No, I can't, and I wouldn't even if I could. Robin will not be pushed; not even by me."

The old woman snorts in disbelief.

"If I could force him to do what you want, as fast as you want it done, if I could control his life that completely, I wouldn't want him. I'd lose respect for him."

"Well, what am I to do? I don't have a lot of time here?"

"If you're asking for my advice… I suggest you have a conversation with King John and my father. I suggest you have a conversation with Robin. Beyond that, I suggest you wait. Give him the time and space he needs to make up his own mind. If you can't do that, then I suggest you update your will. Make some sort of final declaration, even if it only becomes public knowledge after your death because, Lady Eldebury, your nephew, Lord Nottingham, will not be taking the title. At present, he's behind bars in the dungeon of the Black Palace, and he will remain there until the outcome of his trial."

"Trial? For what charge?"

"Treason, murder, and attempted regicide; just to name a few."

"He and his men; they detest people like you. If he can, he will rid the realms of your kind. Just because you have him caged does not mean you've stopped him."

"Sounds like a dangerous undertaking for such a disgustingly mortal man."

"Did you come in here just to antagonize me?"

"No. I came in here because Robin asked me to check on you. Beyond that, I came in here to ask you a question."

"Well, get on with it then. I'm tired."

"Do you have any idea where to begin looking for Robin's father? Does he know about Robin?"

"That's two questions. And why should you care? What difference does it make? I haven't seen Edmund since eight months before the boy was born."

"I care because Robin is my husband. He's a little pre-occupied right now taking care of your people, but when he's had time to process; when he's had time to think things through, he's going to have questions about his father, and I'm not at all certain you're going to be here to answer them. So, where was he when you last saw him? Does Edmund Locksley know he has a son?"

"He was here, in Elyria, when last we met. Though, I didn't tell him about the boy."

"May I ask why?"

"Because it would've complicated things. He was already angry with me, even before I knew I was expecting. It was easier this way."

"Easier for whom?"

"Edmund wouldn't have understood. He would've insisted that Robin's existence be acknowledged publicly. He never cared in the least for the rules governing rank or privilege. He would've despised me for letting his son go."

"So, you made the decision unilaterally without even discussing it with the only other person responsible. It was easier for you."

"It was easier for all three of us. You have no idea the social disgrace they would've lived through had people known the truth."

Regina scoffs bitterly and something behind her dark eyes goes hard. "You think I have no understanding of the secrets that royals keep, or the damage those secrets can do when revealed? Lady, your husband is not half as delusional as you are."

Shaking her head, Regina turns on her heel and leaves the room. The door slams violently in her wake as the queen resolves never to return to the oppressively warm, overly perfumed bedchamber as she strides to the opposite end of the corridor where she puts her back to the wall, inhales deeply and counts silently to ten before opening her dark eyes to find Beatrice studying her with concern.

Robin's mother asks no questions. She simply glances to the other end of the hall and the recently slammed door. Without a single word, she stands there waiting for Regina to unclench her jaw. When, after several long seconds, Regina sighs in agitation, she smiles. "Come with me, dear. Don't let that sour old woman lay claim to your health. She is not worthy of it."

Regina squints as though puzzled, but assures archly, "It was not my health I was about to lose my hold on."

"I'm aware of that." Beatrice shrugs. "That lady could drive the saints to drunken debauchery; but did I say something else wrong? You gave me a look I can't quite define."

"My father is the only one who calls me dear."

"Really? The only one?"

The brunette nods and repeats, "The only one."

"Then, it's high time someone else did as well… That is, unless you find it offensive."

Laughter tumbles out of Regina. "I have been called far worse. So, no it's not offensive. It's just something I'm not at all used to."

"Well then…" Beatrice says with a smile. "I suggest you get used to it."

* * *

An hour later, Robin sits, among their group, in the grand dining hall watching his wife idly push the food around on the plate in front of her without taking more than a few bites.

"What's wrong?" He asks quietly. "Would you prefer something else?"

"No, this is fine." Regina declares with an unmistakable lack of interest in trout, wild rice, and vegetables.

"Then, eat something." He squeezes the hand not playing with her fork affectionately. "You're making your husband nervous."

"I'm not hungry."

"You're not hungry? You, who has taken to eating once every three hours in the last month?" Robin lets go of his fork, pushes his chair back, and drops his napkin on the table.

Regina raises an eyebrow. "Where are you going?"

"To send for a doctor."

"Don't do that. I'm okay, Robin. I couldn't eat breakfast this morning. I was too nauseous, but it finally subsided about an hour and ½ ago. Then I was hungry. I couldn't wait for dinner. If I eat another full meal this soon after the last, I'm going to be sick."

"Is there anything you would like?"

"Nothing I need."

"That's not what I asked you."

Regina shrugs and whispers confidentially, "A bowl of rocky road ice cream topped with some whipped cream and extra nuts."

Robin smiles and whispers back, "One bowl of ice cream won't hurt either of you,"

"I know that, but it's a little hard to come by here in Elyria. I suspect that's probably the only reason I don't have it."

"Oh. She can't… uh… do that?"

"Robin even on my best day I would have some trouble doing that. It's one thing to conjure up something that is readily available. It's quite another to call for something that exists in a different time and a different space. You must have a functioning portal for that; a gateway to bridge the gap between those times and spaces. I know your paternal pride tells you she's a prenatal rock star, but she's not a deity."

Robin shrugs, wholly unconcerned." She doesn't need to be. I'll make sure they pack you a basket to take on our trip."

Regina squints. "Are you afraid the kitchen larders at Mourning Dale are bare?"

"No, I'm certain your father has some very well stocked cupboards."

"But you're afraid I'm going to become ravenous in the few minutes it will take us to transport from here to there? Aradia is going with us; per your insistence."

"Oh, right! No more carriage travel."

Regina chuckles." What? You forgot? I'm not giving birth to our daughter somewhere out there in the woods in a carriage."

Only teasing, Robin grins. "Last week you made it clear you weren't going to give birth lying on the ground. Now carriages have been vetoed as well?"

Regina glowers, refusing her own impulse to crack a smile. "You are not a funny man."

"Drink your tea."

* * *

A short time later, Robin knocks politely before stepping into the antechamber outside the marchioness' bedroom and is surprised to find her in better condition than she's previously been seen by any of their party. Dressed in a silken bed jacket with yet another puritanical, and possibly restrictive lace collar, she is found reclining on a lounge seat near the largest of the room's windows and wrapped carefully in the folds of a thick goose down quilt to prevent herself from catching the nonexistent chill in the air.

Even before he realizes that she's not alone in the room, he asks, "It's very warm outside this afternoon; would you like me to open the window, so you can enjoy the warmth of the sun?"

She scowls as if he's asked an utterly ridiculous question.

"Some warm air and sunshine might help you to feel a little ."

"Elyria's climate is far too humid this time of year. Do you wish to suffocate me?"

Robin ignores the question. "You wanted to see me."

"Yes. As you can see, His Majesty, King John is with us. So is your father-in-law."

Although Robin knows very well that the man isn't one to stand on formality, he finds her blatantly intentional slight extremely annoying and highly uncalled for. "Yes, I see that." He says a bit too forcefully and then inhales deeply in an attempt to rein himself in before continuing. "I'm also aware of the fact that King John is not the only man in this room in possession of a title, or due the respect that generally accompanies such a title."

The marchioness purses her lips together in disapproval of his words and offers no apology. "I'm afraid I'm not certain as to whether or not the title is still valid in his case." Forgive me, Henry." she says without so much as a smattering of contrition in her tone. "In the event of death, I believe it is customary for a crown to be handed down to the next generation within the bloodline. It's been nearly 34 years. That's quite the interregnum; is it not?"

Henry clears his throat, effectively buying himself an extra second to choose his words before speaking. "Lady Eldebury, I would appreciate it, and I think it would serve you greatly if you were to concern yourself with matters that are actually under your control and leave those resting beneath mine to me. However, if it's the next generation of my family you wish to confer with, I will be happy to step out and ask my daughter to take my place in this meeting."

"That will be quite unnecessary!"

"Well, then perhaps we should continue. The sooner we are done here, the sooner my party and I will take our leave." Henry defers to the other monarch in the room. "John…"

The sovereign ruler of Elyria clears his throat. "Henry and I have spent many hours locked in deliberation over the welfare of this land and her surrounding waters, Lady Eldebury, and at last we have come to a decision. My time as your monarch draws to a close. My last official act as king is to declare that from this day forward, Covarrachia's flag shall be flown here."

The old woman scowls "Highness, that is not a wise decision."

The rotund king turns his bulging eyes her way. "Tread carefully, Marchioness."

"Forgive me, Highness but what will become of this land if you allow his flag to fly here? Surely you can foresee his daughter's ascension to the throne. What will become of our people?"

"King Henry has assured me that under your heir's direction Elyria will, once again, prosper. You do wish Elyria's next Marquis to be of your bloodline, do you not?"

"Certainly… but are you not the least bit concerned that he's married to a…" The marchioness considers her audience with thinly veiled contempt. "a sorceress of legendary infamy."

"That concerns me greatly. However, I have not the inclination to go to war over this and the king speaks rather eloquently of his daughter's reformation, and although I still have my doubts about it, even I must admit that Queen Regina has been in residence for more than 48 hours. Your courtyard has been filled to the point of standing room only for most of that time and no tragedy has befallen it. Fire has not broken out. No one has met an untimely end, and to the best of my knowledge, no one is walking around out there in want of their own heart. In fact, people are leaving your courtyard in better standing than when they arrived."

"So, because she hasn't slaughtered anyone for two days, you think you can trust her?" The marchioness gestures to Robin and Henry. "You think they, or anyone else for that matter, should trust her?"

Robin glowers, but before he can make it known that he trusts Regina with, not only his whole heart, but with his very soul, King John rushes in with his own condemnation.

"As I see it, Marchioness, you have very little room to talk. I come here and find your storehouses overflowing and your land gone to seed while villagers do without. This property is ill-cared for. The only thing not in an utter state of ruin is your house and, with your failing health, it's not far behind. Furthermore, I daresay you seem to care no more for the people of Elyria than Queen Regina would have at her worst. Some would argue that it would be kinder to burn the village to the ground, as opposed to letting the villagers slowly starve to death. It's a little late for you to suddenly become concerned with their welfare, don't you think?"

"How dare you compare me to that witch!" She coughs wretchedly.

"Come now, Cecilia. Don't excite yourself. I fear it would only be a waste of precious energy. One that your present condition will not allow for. In fact, odds are that you will not live long enough to be very much troubled by my final decree."

For a moment, the marchioness looks as though she might bite the king; her jaw muscles bunching compulsively as she struggles to maintain her tenuous grasp on her composure. Simply because there's nothing she can say to either royal that won't cause her far more trouble than it's worth, she chooses to redirect her attention.

"What about you, boy?"

Robin, who is entirely uninterested in royal protocol or Cecilia's bitter squabbling stares out the window, his hands clasped behind his back as he looks out onto the courtyard below and the line of villagers that, even after two days, still stretches beyond the outer gates of the property. At first he says nothing. He's quiet until Henry, who assumes Robin did not hear her, is a mere instant away from clearing his throat to politely urge him to rejoin the conversation. Then, he answers her with a quiet but adamantly delivered, "My name is Robin."

The marchioness squints in confusion.

Robin turns to face her but does not step away from the window. "I'm not a boy. If I were, I sincerely doubt you'd think me capable of doing the job to begin with."

Henry manages not to nod in approval, lest he appear condescending, but his eyes do widen in response to the fierce set of Robin's jaw, and the imposing breadth of his shoulders as he takes a wider stance.

"Then, you have changed your mind? You do want the title." A smile begins to form on Lady Eldebury's lips only to be stalled by his next words.

"Not in the least. I don't care one bloody whit for the title."

"Well, like it or not, it's yours for the taking, and you do have a responi…"

"Stop!" Robin speaks barely above a whisper, but his words cut through the air like a double-edged knife. "Do not finish that thought! I'm done listening to people talk to me about responsibility. I don't have a problem assuming responsibility for anything within my control. But you madame… you have no right to lecture me on the topic. How dare you presume otherwise!"

The marchioness trembles involuntarily; in the throes of some nervous synaptic misfire. She coughs into a handkerchief and wrongly makes another assumption. "Because I gave you to someone else to raise."

Robin laughs harshly. "No! Because the only person I've witnessed you claiming any responsibility for is yourself! I've done more for the people of Elyria in the last two days than you've done in the last 20 years. So, spare me the lecture and the pompous title that goes with it. I'll take the job!"

For a protracted moment, no one speaks or moves. At length, a Wide-eyed and frazzled Cecelia Eldebury repeats for the sake of verification. "You'll take the job?"

Robin nods. "I will. Until someone better qualified can be found."

He strides from the room leaving a dazed silence in his wake.

* * *

Regina finds Robin alone, seated on a bench, and lost in thought in the west garden. She approaches and when she recognizes the look of a man who fears he has bitten off more than he can chew, she joins him without a single word.

Half-turned in the seat beside him, she studies his profile long enough to realize that this isn't the moment to interrupt him. So, she waits.

After several minutes of silence and staring off into the middle distance without so much as a word to acknowledge her presence, he simply turns his hand palm up; quietly offering it to her without the slightest need for eye contact.

Just as quietly, Regina laces her fingers through his.

Several minutes more pass in their companionable silence before Robin exhales audibly and takes note of the fact that the sun is only just beginning its descent in the western sky. "Time to get you out of here, Milady."

"We're not even going to talk about the fact that you've just unofficially taken on a title?" Regina raises a finely sculpted eyebrow.

Robin shakes his head. "I'd told her I'd take the job. I'm not interested in the title that comes with it."

"Well, the people of Elyria are used to looking to someone who has a title. They're going to want to know what to call you… At least, once they know about you."

"They can call me Robin Hood." He grimaces when an unpleasant thought occurs to him. "Are we supposed to make some sort of formal appearance, or at least an announcement of some kind?"

"Yes, but that won't happen until after Lady Eldebury's passing. By the time it does happen, it will be for formality's sake only. As many people as you've got coming through here, speculation will start. It already has. I'm guessing that by the time she does draw her last breath, everyone will already know that there's a new man in town. That's usually how it works. You still have some time, however fleeting it may be. Before you're sworn in as her successor, Daddy, and King John will make it known that Elyria is now part of the kingdom of Covarrachia. Then, upon her death, Daddy will preside over the ceremony and officially dub you her rightful heir. You won't like, or be comfortable with, all the pomp and circumstance but I'm afraid it's what the people expect. It's what they've been taught to expect. Give them what they need. Once you're officially seated, you'll have some latitude to change the way things are done, but I would suggest small gradual changes to start with. Let Elyria get to know you before you make any radical changes in policy or procedure. Otherwise, you'll scare people. People are afraid of what they don't understand. People are generally afraid of change. You've got something good going here, Robin. That will work in your favor but, you're also married to me. That definitely won't work in your favor. In fact, I'm afraid you're squarely behind the eight ball when it comes to your choice of spouse."

Robin squeezes her hand. "Have I ever complained about the heat that comes courtesy of standing in your kitchen."

"Not even once." Regina smiles. "but you know how people here see me. They haven't had time to know differently."

"Don't tell me you're worried they're going to change my mind."

"No." she chuckles softly and kisses his cheek. "I'm just saying you're in for an uphill battle. You should mentally prepare for some open, if not outright hostile, opposition."

"I think a few people already know that something about you is different, even if they don't know quite what. Word will spread."

Regina laughs derisively. "Those few people are probably speculating about whether or not pregnancy has made me soft."

"No one who has ever witnessed a mother protecting her young in the wild would dare to question that."

Because it's an old conversation, and one she's dreadfully tired of having, Regina changes the subject. "Who's in charge here, in your absence?"

"Well, if Covarrachia's flag now flies here, doesn't that make your dad point man?"

"Not until a flag raising ceremony is held. Not officially, and even then, to use your turn of phrase, he's the point man for the entire kingdom. He will rely on you to assume responsibility for and keep him apprised of all pertinent matters pertaining to this particular parcel of land and all her borders. We talked about this last night. Someone needs to be left in charge in your absence."

"I already talked to the guys. Your dad was there with me, though he didn't offer a single word of advice or opposition. He just quietly observed from the background. I suppose that means he approved of the choices I made, or at the very least that he doesn't disapprove. The men, they all got used to Alan being in charge after I left Sherwood. He's familiar with the role and he's also the best suited for it. He's second in command, I guess. John's in charge of the muscle and Percival is our bag man. The three of them combined will decide on the division of labor for the rest of the merry men. I'm free to return to Covarrachia with you and whoever else is joining us for the trip."

Approaching from the house in the company of Norah, her mother, and her great grandmother, Eliana declares with vigor, "I hope that includes us, Uncle Robin, because this place is snoozeville! We are the only interesting people here, unless you count the funny old man and his cat."

Robin flashes his ready smile. "Of course, you're traveling with us, as are a few others. I'm not about to leave any of my favorite mages alone in this inhospitable place. Sadly, the lady of the house seems to share her nephew's misguided hatred of magic and all those who wield it; no matter how beautifully they do it. Norah sweetheart…"

Robin's words are preempted by the sweet mournful cooing of an inbound dove. They all watch, captivated by the sight of the snowy white feathered messenger as it soars high overhead.

Sensing the reason for its unexpected arrival, Regina rises to her feet and takes a few steps beyond the group as the dove passes them by and returns on its descent to land lightly on her outstretched forearm. Carefully, she unfurls the small scrap of parchment wound around its leg and reads the three letters hastily scrawled there in recognizable handwriting. Wasting no time, she lifts her arm again, setting the bird aloft on the light summer breeze. Returning to Robin's side, she discreetly offers him a view of the parchment and the brief but alarming message it conveys.

S.O.S.

"Snow?" He asks intuitively.

Regina smirks. "Unless you know someone else who sends messages by dove."

Turning to his daughter, Robin picks up where he left off before the bird's arrival. "Go find your grandparents. Get back here as quickly as you can. I'm not sure where Henry is at the moment, but he is inside. Trix is in the kitchen talking to Mrs. Lampton about the care she is to provide for the Eldeburys in our absence. We need to be on our way. Snow and David need our help."

She's off like a deer in response to the echoing report of a hunter's rifle, and halfway to the house before Robin is finished speaking.

Eliana calls out to her, lending a little guidance. "Henry is visiting with the marquis in his private chamber."

Without bothering to acknowledge that she heard her cousin's words, Norah thrusts the doors to the western entrance of the house open wide and races for the kitchen, dodging household staff as she goes.

Bursting into the heated room, catching its busy occupants by surprise, her sudden appearance causes one maid to inadvertently push the chicken she's plucking for the evening meal over the edge of the butcher block style table where she works, sending the poultry sliding across the floor, where it narrowly avoids being stepped on by a chef in transit from one table to the next before it slides into one of the blazing fireplaces half-plucked and without benefit of a roasting pan.

Watching the plump bird char almost instantly, the sour-complexed, rail-thin matron standing at Beatrice's side demands to know, "What is the meaning of this!"

Norah hurries over. Clutching her grandmother's hand, she hastily asks the other woman, "Are you Mrs. Lampton?"

"I am, indeed, child; and if you are trying to ruin the marchioness's supper, your off to a sensational start!"

"I do apologize but…"

The thin-lipped woman with gray curls cuts her off. "Your apology won't save that bird, girl. Nor will it save my staff from the extra work you've just created."

Norah bristles and squares her shoulders in response to the rude interruption. "I'm afraid you'll just have to forgive me, Madam. My father told me to make this quick." Without wasting further time, she turns on her heel and leads Beatrice from the room. "Come on Trix, we have to hurry."

"What's h…" Beatrice gives up. She can either ask questions, or she can run to keep up with the girl, but she cannot do both… At least not simultaneously.

Scarcely a moment later, Norah barely manages to knock twice before careening into the marquis's bedchamber in much the same fashion as she did the kitchen. This time, in response to her abrupt arrival, she gets the same sharp looks of surprise without the calamity, or the stern admonishment.

Letting go of Beatrice's hand, Norah quickly crosses the room and kneels before the marquis's chair where she pets the cat in his lap and waits a few seconds; the same way she has seen her mother wait for the old man's mind to catch up with what his eyes tell him.

Eldebury laughs. "Little Regina." He pats her face gently with his withered old hand; his skin cool and soft with age. "Slow down, girl. You're always in a hurry."

She squeezes his hand warmly. "No sir, I'm Norah."

The old marquis frowns in confusion and turns to his old friend for clarification. "Henry?"

Henry smiles patiently. "It's alright Frederic. This is Norah. She's Regina's daughter."

The old man suddenly looks worried, aware that he's gotten something wrong again, he shakes his head in embarrassment.

Trying to ease his mind, Norah offers him a soft smile and pats his shoulder with her free hand. "It's okay sir. It doesn't matter. You call me whatever makes you happy, but I need to steal King Henry away for a bit."

Henry raises a curious eyebrow as the marquis shakes his head again, this time in dread.

Norah explains, "It's really important, sir. Some friends of mine need help."

"Will you bring Henry back?"

"Yes sir, I will. I promise."

The old man studies her young face briefly and then shifts his gaze back to the king. "You better go, Henry. Sounds like there's trouble. Don't worry about me. Cat will keep me company."

Nodding as he rises to his feet, Henry promises. "We shall return."

Smiling, the old man waves them away with, "Not to worry. If I get bored, Cat and I will stage a mutiny and chase the old cow's mutts out of the house!"

Norah and her grandparents hurry from the room and through the corridors of the timeworn manor and manage to leave the marchioness's four overly groomed lap dogs barking with nervous aggression in their wake.

When they join the rest of the group outside, Henry and Beatrice are half a dozen steps behind Norah and panting for breath as they catch up. Coming to a stop between his daughter and granddaughter, Henry asks, "Suppose you tell us what's going on now."

When her parents raise eyebrows of mild disapproval, Norah shrugs. "Daddy said to hurry. Besides, I figure it's better to explain it to everybody all at once than to have to do it multiple times."

Robin shrugs unable to find fault with her logic as Regina hands her father the curled scrap of parchment.

"This arrived by dove only a few minutes ago."

Henry barely glances at the message contained in the parchment before passing it on to Beatrice. "Snow's in trouble."

Regina nods.

"Do we have any idea what kind of trouble?" Beatrice asks.

Robin shrugs. "It appears she didn't have time to elaborate."

Henry nods. "Then I think it's best we don't just drop into the palace unannounced."

Regina concurs. "A quarter mile from the gates of the rear courtyard… And we approach with caution."


	21. Chapter 21

* * *

**Enchanted Forest**

**Rear Courtyard of the Black Palace**

**Present Day**

Snow White rises from a stunningly carved throne of the purest albite adorned with accents of pale pink quartz and amethyst. Stepping to the edge of the dais, she attempts to be heard above the noise of the crowd. A large number of denizens of the Enchanted Forest - so many of them that there is standing room only - have arrived in their finest attire to witness the day's proceedings, and the palace's largest courtyard is alive with the noisy hum of conversation.

"Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, if you will all come to order, we will…"

Realizing there's been absolutely no response to her words, David rises from the identical throne next to hers and loudly clears his throat. "Good evening, lords, ladies… If you will please come to order…"

The crowd turns their way, many faces showing surprise to find the royal couple on their feet. Ready for things to begin, they all come to a standstill, several of them noisily shushing each other with words like "Oh, look, they're here." or "Be quiet! The princess is talking…is that not a lovely gown she's wearing?" One irascible old white-haired fellow answers plainly, without even attempting to whisper, "I'm a right bit more concerned with the chap in irons than I am with lady's fashion, if you don't mind! Who is he, and what is he accused of?"

"Right!" seconds a young mother with tired but curious grey eyes as she gently bounces the fussy toddler on her hip. I'm glad the prince and princess are back among us." She curtsies primly. "Welcome home, your majesties..." She gestures toward George Nottingham, who stands center courtyard, in the dock. "and this does look rather important, but some of us had evening chores waiting at home for us. So, maybe we can postpone the idle gossip and speculation for later. Both would go down easier with coffee and dessert. For now, I say let's get on with the business at hand, if you all don't mind."

"Indeed, I think it's safe to say that we all welcome you home, your majesties." The leviathan emerges from the crowd, standing head and shoulders above his nearest comrades before he kneels and bows his head in respect.

Snow smiles. "Lancelot, I'm pleased to see so many kind faces and yours among them. Rise and let us stand as equals, old friend."

Coming to his feet, he unintentionally becomes the self-appointed spokesperson for the group with his next admission. "I'm a little surprised by our venue, princess." He gestures to the space around them. I - like many others, I'm sure - was under the impression that this was the queen's preferred residence here in the Enchanted Forest."

"That it is, and I believe it will remain so. Prince David and I are hosting this evening's inquest here simply because we happen to be here, but it is important to note that we do so with the queen's full support."

A short bald man interrupts, "Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but is the evil queen in residence?" Instantly realizing his mistake, the portly man ducks surreptitiously as though he expects a massive fiery orb to be hurtled his direction and incinerate him where he stands; leaving nothing of him behind save the scorched imprint of his boots on the polished obsidian floor.

Snow makes an impressive effort not to cringe. Smiling instead, she says evenly, "Queen Regina has business elsewhere at present, and I'll take this moment to ask everyone to please refrain from referring to her as 'evil' in the future. I cannot tell you all how happy it makes me to tell you that the queen has undergone quite a stellar reformation, and I would appreciate it more than I can say if the people of this kingdom were to do me the honor of choosing to acknowledge her efforts by showing the respect that such a change deserves."

At a collective loss for how to respond, the stunned crowd stares in silence until Nottingham snarls hideously from the dock, "Burn the witch and all those like her!"

A terrible outcry rises within the overpopulated courtyard; some shout in horror at Nottingham's declaration while others seem to chant in agreement.

Snow pats the air in a gesture meant to calm the masses. "That's enough. Settle down… All of you. We will either conduct this inquest in a civilized fashion or it will be closed to everyone except the members of parliament. As for you, George Nottingham," The princess swivels her gaze to the man in the center of the courtyard. "You will have your chance to speak. Until that time, I will thank you to keep quiet."

"And if I don't?" Nottingham challenges snidely.

"Then I'm afraid I'll have to ask the guards to muzzle you, sir. You have the right to your opinions, no matter how inflammatory they are. You do not have the right to incite a riot! Now…" Snow reaches for her husband's hand and laces her fingers with his. "Prince David and I want to make our position clearly understood. Given her recent transformation, and her continued alliance with us, Queen Regina is welcome in the Enchanted Forest any time she chooses, and this palace will remain her home. She has been forgiven for her former crimes. For as long as she remains loyal in the struggle for light over darkness, no harm shall come to her, or any person like her who chooses to use their magical ability for good. The Enchanted Forest kingdom has always strived to be a safe place for its citizens, and people of all magical abilities have been, and will remain, welcome here. Any person who seeks to do these individuals harm without due cause can, and will be, held accountable." She inhales slowly as another expected murmur of shock ripples through the crowd. "That is what brings us here this evening. This man…" She gestures, open palm lifted to the air, her fingers stretched in his direction. "George, Sheriff of Nottingham, has gathered an army of followers and he freely admits that he has taken it upon himself to declare certain women to be witches and that, whether he is wrong or right in his declaration, once the declaration has been made, he has taken it upon himself to execute these women. To this end, he stands accused of harassment, slander, abduction, and multiple counts of murder. In addition to this, in our absence, he did try to lay siege to this kingdom and proclaim himself to be its new ruler."

The astounded crowd begins to clamber restlessly.

"His attempts were thwarted by none other than Queen Regina, who arrived just in time to intervene and send word to myself and Prince David. We arrived as quickly as possible and brought friends to aid in the fight. Many of us were wounded, but fortunately, we sustained no casualties among our own people. I'm afraid that Sheriff Nottingham's men were not quite so privileged. Lives were lost, and for that, I am remorseful, but I will not allow a common bully to overthrow this kingdom. As such, it is now up to me to decide what will become of him. In the interest of making the right decision, I turn to you, the citizens of the Enchanted Forest."

"Hang him! Let him know the torment he inflicted on others!"

"Lock him up and throw away the key!

"Set him free! It's an ugly job, but if he's willing, I say let him do it!"

The suggestions come from every direction at once until someone shouts in response to the last suggestion, "Drago Coldwick! You should be ashamed of yourself, making such as speech! Why, your own Calista is a budding torch keeper, if ever I saw one."

The man called Drago instantly goes purple in the face with rage. "How dare you say such hateful things! You have no right, madame!"

The woman plows onward, casting a look about for supporters, and frowning in disappointment when she finds no one willing to vouch for what she says. "More than half of us have seen the girl start fires with nothing more than a glance. How would you like it if Nottingham were to set his murderous sights on your child simply because she possesses an ability that she neither asked for, or has yet to master?"

"Hear me now! My daughter is not a torch keeper, and no one here can prove otherwise. Even if you could, anyone stupid enough to approach my child with anything less than kindness in mind will find themselves making a one-way trip to the bone yard!"

Aware that the situation is dangerously close to spiraling out of control, David whistles loudly, promptly silencing the anxious crowd. "People, we are not here to debate who does and does not possess magical ability. Nor are we here to condemn those who do. This evening we are only here to decide, like civilized human beings, what is to be done with a man who feels justified in taking the lives of those he feels less worthy of living than himself. We have three options. First, we can exile Mr. Nottingham. However, in doing so, we would only make him someone else's problem. Exile also gives him the possibility of return. Second, we can imprison him. Lastly, we can sentence him to death. However, before any such decision can be made, the accused has the right to be heard. He has the right to speak on his own behalf."

The crowd turns to Nottingham expectantly.

He sneers. "I hardly think I need say much in my own defense. The fact that your own dear princess speaks of forgiveness for the cold-hearted atrocities of the queen is all the defense I need."

The courtyard is engulfed in a roar of sound and angry passion as individual members of the crowd bellow in protest of what their neighbors have to say.

Unnoticed by those too inflamed by their personal beliefs, Snow leaves the dais but for a moment to send her urgent plea for reinforcements and then returns to find her courtyard home to its second rebellion in less than a fortnight.

* * *

They approach with all the grace and stealth that a small band of hooded travelers can manage. Still several feet beyond the open gates of the southern courtyard, it's more than obvious that there is trouble within as they are greeted by the sounds of swords clashing and men fighting.

Eager for a more informative view of things inside the courtyard walls, Robin steps into the bed of a wooden cart left unattended and then hoists himself up to the top of the wall, where he lies flat on his belly concealed from view beneath the low hanging branches of a sickly looking elm that is clearly too weak to bear his weight.

Long seconds later, he lowers himself as far as his arms will allow and then drops back down to the cart, tumbling badly when one of the carts rotting axles gives way under his weight and the wheel attached to it rolls away. Fortunately, the splintering crack of the wood goes unnoticed beneath the din of fighting.

When the cart tips sideways and he rolls out onto the ground, Regina hurries to him. Kneeling with concern, she nearly removes the hood of her cloak, but Robin is quick to stop her.

Holding her hood in place, he whispers urgently, "Don't do that, love. I'm alright. Keep your face hidden. Something tells me you shouldn't be seen here." He makes eye contact with each of the women in the group. "None of you should." Coming to his feet, he brushes dirt off himself. "It looks like they decided to hold an inquest to let the people determine how Nottingham should be charged."

"Right." Regina nods. "Snow would do that. She said she would. Besides, it's the most diplomatic way to determine his fate… Let the people of the Enchanted Forest decide."

Robin runs his fingers through his hair. "Nottingham is in the dock in the center of the courtyard. There's a small group of rebels - not more than a dozen - trying to make their way to him. Probably a few of his goons that weren't present at the battle a few nights ago. It looks like half the crowd is trying to hold them back, the other half is helping them on. There seems to be a fairly even split among the crowd. People aren't agreeing as to whether he should be imprisoned, and duly punished, or set free to carry out his plan." Again, Robin looks at the women in the group and repeats solemnly, "None of you should be here."

Zelena chuckles softly but maniacally before she hisses, "Aww… What? The big bad men are afraid of magical women?"

Robin nods drolly. "I'd say at least half … Maybe 2/3 of them."

She shrugs dramatically. "Well then, I say, let's give them something to be afraid of."

Robin groans, "Hold on a minute there, snapdragon! If you're ready to risk your life, I have no problem with that. However, my wife, who is mere days from delivery, and my daughter are not going in there." He holds up a hand to silence his daughter's incoming objection even before she can form the words. "Furthermore, before you charge in and unleash all manner of green fire and brimstone, remember, there are innocent lives in there."

Zelena scoffs. "Oh please, spare me your altruistic drivel. Nobody in there is innocent. Every single person in that courtyard is there because they either want to execute a misogynist witch hunter or because they want him set free so he can roam about annihilating a significant portion of the population in this realm for reasons that are entirely beyond our control. Not one of us was consulted before we were born a witch. Nobody gave us a choice. But I, for one, am not ashamed of what I am. Nobody else should have to be either. And how many women do you think he accused erroneously. How many non-magical women do you think he has slaughtered in the name of righteousness!"

Robin exhales slowly. "I'm not here, nor am I about to waste precious time, arguing with you about the blatant atrocities of genocide, Zelena. I'm here because some friends of mine asked me to be. No matter which side they're on, you cannot know for certain that every single person in there is out for blood. If that were true, you'd have to include Snow and David and if that were what they truly wanted, they already have all the authority they need to call for it without holding an inquest to ask for anyone's approval. This is a kingdom, not a democracy. Fortunately for the waste of human flesh who stands accused in there, the ruling monarch is a just-minded woman, and I'm going in there and lend the support she asked for before hatred and evil win the day. Come with me if you want but do me a favor and try not to murder anyone! Because otherwise, you're no different than Nottingham."

Shocked into silence, Zelena flinches and then glares at him.

"You have the power to obliterate every living soul in that courtyard, Zelena. If you do it out of fear or anger just because you can, not only are you just like him, but you'll prove to all those people that he's r…"

Zelena rolls her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I got it. Come on already, let's go, tree hugger!"

Robin hugs his mother and touches Aradia's shoulder. "Take them to Covarrachia. Regina knows the way. Just follow her lead." He hugs his daughter and kisses her forehead. "You're going. No argument, and don't give your mother a bad time about it." He turns to his father-in-law. "Henry? I'm good with the wicked one for backup if you want to escort the ladies."

Henry eyes his daughter and granddaughter. briefly stricken silent at the thought of life without either of them, he shakes his head. "Regina knows her way home. Count me in. I'm old and I'm slow but I'm not dead yet…" He grins wryly. "Well, not today anyway."

Chuckling, Robin nods as Zelena pushes Eliana toward the outbound group.

"Mum! I can help!"

"We don't need help to overthrow a dozen apes with manmade weapons. Go with your cousin. I'll be with you before you know it."

Robin places his hands firmly on Regina's shoulders. "I'll just be a few minutes. Then, I'll come get you, we'll go home to Storybrooke and have a baby. We can come back later and worry about all the rest of it." He pulls her into his arms whispering into her hair, "I'll be right behind you."

"You better be thief." She kisses him. "Don't make me come get you; not from here or anywhere else!"


	22. Chapter 22

* * *

**Kingdom of Covarrachia**

**Mourning Dale Palace**

**Present Day**

"Regina?" Beatrice turns a slow circle, her eyes not seeing the one who isn't there to be seen. "Regina?" she calls a little louder, shaking her head even as she does so. "She's not going to answer you." She mutters to herself. "She isn't here?"

Baffled, Beatrice stares at the vacant space where her – well, for more than 40 years she's called herself Robin's mother. Therefore, it seems only logical to refer to his wife as her daughter by marriage, even if the thought is still more than a bit foreign to her. So, she stares at the empty space where her daughter-in-law stood only a moment ago and squints in disbelief.

Beatrice looks around the elegant but empty bedchamber once more and idly slaps the palms of her hands against her thighs. She can account for the royal's whereabouts no more than she can explain her sudden disappearance. Beatrice had been in the process of trying to convince the younger woman to get some rest. Regina had been standing at one of the windows looking out over the manicured grounds and saying something about the fact that this palace used to be her home and that, while a good deal of her childhood was not worth mentioning, it wasn't all bad either. A far-off look had risen in her dark eyes, one that held the soft light of reminiscence and, with no further warning, Regina had simply vanished. No 'I'll be back in a minute.' No swirling puff of smoke. No nothing. One second, she was there. The next, she wasn't.

Beatrice chews on her bottom lip. She's been here for all of 20 minutes. Long enough to guess that the palace is immense, not to mention wholly unfamiliar to her. Even without leaving this room, she knows with absolute certainty that she will need either a guide or a map to successfully navigate its foreign corridors and chambers. This one room is nearly large enough to hold the entirety of the little cottage she grew up in.

She jumps, startled half out of her skin, by the soft but unexpected tap at the chamber door.

Hurrying over, she opens the door expectantly. "Regina?"

Aradia smiles warmly but raises an eyebrow. "No. It's only me, dear, and I doubt she's in the habit of knocking on the door to her own bedchamber. Misplaced her already, have you?" She chuckles amiably. "That actually took a little longer than I thought it would."

Seeking clarity, Beatrice inquires, "You're saying you were expecting her to quite literally disappear?"

Still laughing softly, Aradia shakes her head. "Well no, not literally, but she doesn't strike me as a woman who enjoys being looked after."

Beatrice tries to shrug off the feeling that she is somehow derelict in her duty. "Well, I certainly didn't mean to misplace her. She was here only a moment ago, and then…" Beatrice snaps her fingers. "she wasn't. Just like that! Here one second. Gone the next. No 'goodbye.' No 'go jump in the lake!' Just 'poof' gone…" Beatrice falls silent when she realizes that she only possesses a small fraction of the demigoddess's attention.

"Aradia?" She raises a mildly suspicious eyebrow. "Are you about to vanish from sight as well?"

Smiling patiently, Aradia nods as she holds out her hand. "Yes, but you may come along if you wish."

Tired of the pitfalls of magical travel but realizing that she cares even less for being left behind, Beatrice places her hand in Aradia's and closes her eyes; equally curious about and wary of the next sight that will greet them.

When she dares to open them again, her eyes take in the sight of a room that was obviously once an extravagantly decorated royal nursery. Now, most of the room's furnishings, as well as the crystal chandelier that hangs far overhead, are covered in sullied drop clothes meant to protect them from years of exposure to the layers of dust and the sunlight that barely seeps into the darkened room courtesy of the heavy brocade draperies that are tightly drawn over a multitude of windows.

With her hands on her hips, Regina turns a slow circle in the center of the room, both her eyes and her full lips narrowed by displeasure. When she realizes that she's no longer alone in the room, she offers both women a fleeting look of contrition. "Sorry about that. I didn't choose to disappear on you. I thought about this room and…" She shrugs. "here I am."

With her interest piqued, Aradia raises an eyebrow. "You didn't come here, to this room, of your own accord?"

Regina shakes her head. "I did not."

"Then, I think you should get as much rest as you possibly can, Regina. It's not uncommon for magical children to become more active in the hours immediately preceding their birth. The increased activity usually starts, as it did with you, magical misfires on your part. Then, your little one started providing you with things you thought about, things you wanted. Now, since obviously, she can't bring an entire room to you, she's brought you to the room. I don't think it's going to be much longer before she's here with us."

"She's already here with us."

"Yes, but I'm referring…"

"I know what you mean Aradia. She'll be here soon; a version of her that's small enough to swaddle, and I may not be here with her…"

"Regina, we're going to do everything we can to…"

"I know that." Regina snaps before tempering her words. "I know that," she repeats more softly. "but even you may not have the power to stop what's coming; not if it's supposed to be."

"I haven't gotten the sense that you're one to put all your faith in fate."

Regina's laughter is humorless. "Only when I don't get what I want."

"How often does that happen?"

"Not very."

"I didn't think so."

Only half-listening, lost in her own thoughts, Regina murmurs more to herself than either of them, "There's still time. Robin's not here yet."

Aradia chuckles softly. "I don't want to annoy you, or risk distressing you in any way, but her delivery is not dependent upon his presence. I've been around more centuries than I care to count. In all that time, one of the few things I have learned with absolute certainty… Babies come when they want to. And I don't think they care very much at all about our plans. In fact, I'm almost positive the little ones laugh at all of our well thought out rational adult plans."

"I won't disagree with you. It's just that part of this story has already been recorded in Henry's storybook. I'm not sure why. He doesn't usually record things until after they happen. Sometimes as they are happening. This is the one time I can remember him writing about something beforehand. I've seen an illustration, an image of Robin and I together in this room sometime before she is born, and it wasn't in its current state. This room was properly cleaned and furnished. It was ready for Norah. Maybe it was the gods' way of letting us know what was coming or the universe's way of preparing us. I don't know which, but I do know that the book has never been wrong. Sometimes it's been mysterious, but never wrong. He'll be here before she's born. I know he will. If I didn't know that; I'd never have left his side back there at the Black Palace."

The door opens and Norah strides in with Eliana at her heels. "I thought you left rather easily. Mom, you didn't even argue with him. Not for a minute."

"I did that for you." Regina touches her own abdomen with rarely seen tenderness. Otherwise, I wouldn't have left him. Not for one second. I'm not scared of Nottingham or his nasty little misanthropes, but if I had stayed, your father would've been afraid for me, and for you too. We should have taken a battalion of the Black Knights with us. We didn't. It was too late to reverse that decision. Your dad was going in there, and there was no way to stop him, but to survive a firefight you have to master your own fears. If they are allowed to overwhelm you, the odds of survival become almost nil. The best way I had to ensure both yours and your father's safety, was to remove myself, and therefore you, from the equation."

"You should have let me stay with him. Even if something happens to me…" Norah points to herself.

Regina shakes her head adamantly even as she touches the girl's face with affection. "I know what you're going to say. I also know that rationally, it makes sense. I'm proud of your courage, but there was no way either of us was going to agree to that. You're our daughter. Like it or not, we're hard-wired to protect you, and that's something that will never change, no matter how old you are."

Eliana groans. "Aunt Regina you sound just like my dad!"

The queen offers her niece a saccharine smile. "Please do tell him you said that. He barely tolerates me. I'm sure hearing that will just make his day."

"I'm not joking here. Honestly, we managed time travel. I think we're ready for a few slimy bigots."

Regina drops an arm around each girl's shoulders. "When you can both manage to escape the clutches of would-be abductors who intend to hang you by the neck for simply being who you are without panicking and subsequently landing your necks in their nooses, come see me. We'll revisit the issue of whether or not you are ready for slimy bigots."

Eliana groans again and looks to her cousin for support.

Norah shrugs. "Hey, don't look at me. I told you she wouldn't go for it. And Mom I don't see how you can be so calm."

"I am calm because I have to be Norah, for your sake. Besides, I'm not worried… much. Zelena is the Wicked Witch, not to mention a Mills woman. She can be quite vicious when she needs to be. With her on their side, your dad and your grandfather will be fine."

Before Norah can reply, an uncommonly tall willow whip of a woman dressed in a maid's uniform hurries in through the open door and then pales to the color of milk upon sight of Regina. She curtsies low, her knees nearly touching the floor and then almost forgets to rise again as the heat of embarrassment deeply colors her slender neck and her unmistakably elfin ears. "Pardon the intrusion, Your Majesty." She wrings her hands, pulling at her own fingertips nervously. "Your father… I mean to say, the king. He said you would be arriving. He said we were to open the palace in anticipation of visitors, but that we should see to your private quarters first, then the kitchens… She pauses to think, her eyes turning to the ceiling as she makes certain she's listing things in the proper order. "This room was to be third – and now I see why." She smiles apprehensively. "Then the large parlor and dining room in the east wing, and then his private chambers and library, before attending to the rest of the house. If we're slow, I sincerely apologize. We're working just as…"

Regina interrupts. "What's your name?"

The blonde, who's waist-length mane is so pale that it's almost luminescent, is probably younger than the queen's redheaded niece and she stammers in surprise. "I… I am called Frances, Your Majesty."

"And the household staff is comprised of how many people currently?"

Frances trembles visibly. "I don't know the exact number. The housekeeper, Mrs. Timmons, she would know. I do know the number has dropped noticeably in recent days. Though, I can't say why."

Regina laughs dryly. "Of course, you can, Frances. A significant number of the household staff have chosen to resign their posts upon hearing that I have returned. Their unscheduled departures have left Mrs. Timmons scrambling to fill their vacated posts, and the rest of the household staff working hard to cover the shortfall. It's not a difficult thing to say."

A timid smile flickers in and out of existence on the young maid's petal-soft lips. "We are working as quickly as we can, Majesty."

"I may be able to lighten your load slightly. Though, I dare not attempt anything magical in the way of assistance for fear of accidentally firebombing the palace. However, if you will ask Mrs. Timmons to have a few of the men bring out anything that remains in storage for this room, the princess, and the duchess…" Regina gestures toward Norah and Eliana respectively. "They may have charge of this room, and they made decorate it to Norah's liking."

"Ma'am?" The maid isn't sure she understands.

Regina shrugs and rests her hands lightly against her belly. "It is her nursery now, or at least it will be very shortly. I see no reason why it shouldn't be decorated according to her own specifications."

The maid's gaze passes from Norah to Regina's abdomen and back again before she questions, "You mean she is…" The astonished servant girl points awkwardly between mother and daughter.

"Yes Frances, she is."

Forgetting herself, Frances looks Regina directly in the eye. "That must've taken 1000 cauldrons full of magic. How did you…" Reclaiming etiquette, she bows low, apologizing for her momentary slip in propriety. "Forgive me."

Regina chuckles drolly. "I didn't. My daughter did."

Frances nods almost drunkenly with understanding, then with barely contained wonder, she turns to face Norah. "I would like it very much if the princess would be willing to share how she accomplished such an incomparable feat."

Norah grimaces even as she laughs. "Frances, I will tell you anything you want to know, so long as you promise never to refer to me in the third person while in my presence ever again."

Confused, Frances can't help but squint. "Then, how shall I address the princ… ahem…you?"

"Just call me Norah, okay?" She shrugs. "I mean, you shouldn't have to walk around calling me by a title unless doing so will serve a worthwhile purpose. You don't have to stroke my ego."

Completely uncertain how to respond, Frances turns a raised eyebrow to Regina.

Regina offers only a reserved nod. "Physically, she may look very much like me, but intellectually, she bears a shining resemblance to her father, not to mention, her grandfather."

"I see, but how shall I…"

"I would suggest you do as she wishes."

The befuddled maid nods with emphatic grace as she backs out of the room. "Right then, I'll have the rest of the nursery things brought from storage, and anything else… Norah… wishes." She scarcely remembers to curtsy again before closing the nursery door. Lifting her skirts in fists clenched in excitement, she steps away muttering, "Merlin's beard!" beneath her breath.

Once safely out of range, Frances scurries down to the kitchens. In the doorway of the largest, she catches sight of someone whom she knows will share her enthusiasm. Although she has not been in the King's employee long, upon her arrival here late the previous year, she made fast friends with another girl of her age and standing. Now, she rushes forward and spins her friend around by the shoulders, hugging her briefly as a fine cloud of flour rises in the air around them.

"Oh, Bette! In a million years, you'll never guess what I've come to tell you!"

Bette, a statuesque practical girl with raven hair so dark that it holds blue highlights, does her best to hold her flour-dusted hands away from her friend's body as she chuckles wryly and attempts to extricate herself from the unexpected hug.

"If you don't mind, Frannie, I am in the middle of kneading the bread for tomorrow's dinner. What's got you all in a tizzy this time?"

"It's true! It's really true, Bette!" Frances's almond-shaped eyes glitter with excitement.

Bette uses the back of one of her floury-white hands to push her curly bangs out of her face, and in doing so leaves a trace of the baker's staple smeared across her forehead. "What's true?" She asks, trying to keep her mild exasperation out of her voice.

Knowing how much her friend prides herself on her neatly kept appearance, Frances wipes away the smeared flour before issuing a quiet squeak of excitement. "The queen! She's here! She is come, truly!"

Bette laughs. "Well, of course, she is. To the best of my knowledge, Mrs. Timmons isn't given to mendacity."

"But that's not all. Either someone has been telling us lies about her personality, or pregnancy must really agree with her! She isn't at all like everyone says. I wasn't expecting to bump into her just now, but I did, and I was so shocked that I bumbled around like the court fool. And what do you think? Clearly, you can see, she didn't incinerate me on the spot. Sure, she was a bit cool, but that's to be expected of royalty; or at least that's what I have always thought. Her daughter is here too… I mean… a grown-up version of the baby the queen is carrying. Although, I don't think she will be carrying her for very much longer. She…" Frances pantomimes with her arms stretched out in front of her own abdomen. "I'm telling you Bette; it could be any minute now. We should boil some water and get some bath sheets and blankets ready."

Coming briefly up for air, Frances lightly smacks her own forehead with the heel of her hand before she admits, "Oh, the gods preserve me! I nearly forgot, I'm to tell Mrs. Timmons to tell the boys to bring the rest of the nursery things out of storage!"

"And so you have!" bellows a stern-faced, rail-thin, matron from the doorway. Striding into the room, she demands, "What's all this foolishness about, Miss Cockrell? I won't have you disrupting my kitchen and distracting your coworkers from their appointed rounds."

Frances immediately steps away from her friend, folds her hands at her waist, and quickly tucks the scuffed toes of her slippers out of sight beneath her skirts. "No Ma'am! I apologize sincerely, Mrs. Timmons. I'm sorry I got excited. It's just that there's going to be a royal baby in the palace… and I dare say sometime very soon… and she's…"

"There's no point in working yourself into a fever, Miss Cockrell. Babies are born every day. You'll do well to hold your enthusiasm until after you are certain that the baby in question will be healthy enough to survive her own delivery."

Frances pails instantly and then her face turns a fiery red. "What a wretched thing to say, Madame! You shouldn't even dare to speak such words into existence lest you bring them about!"

"Calm yourself, girl! Don't go being ridiculous! Mere words cannot bring about someone's death. I only meant that babies are born every day and not all of them survive. You'll save yourself a fair amount of heartache if you learn to temper your excitement until it is called for."

"Oh, but they can…" Frances nods adamantly and then explains further when she realizes that she has become the object of undesired scrutiny. "Mere words can bring about someone's death. At least, they can if they are spoken by certain folks."

Mrs. Timmons scoffs bitterly. "What folks would those be?"

"The magical ones, of course."

"Well then, it's a good thing I'm not one of them."

Frances's large hazel eyes plead with the older woman as she whispers earnestly, "What if you are, and you just don't know it? Isn't it better to guard against what you say, just to be on the safe side? Especially now, what with the princess here and being such a nice person and all. She told me the call her Norah! Can you imagine it? Such familiarity; with a person of her standing? Now, that's nobility, if ever I saw it!"

"Well, you won't be seeing it anymore if you don't get yourself back to work at once girl; and stop all this utter foolishness! Honestly, imagining that you've actually had a conversation with an unborn baby!" Mrs. Timmons turns on her heel and stomps out of the kitchen before the young maid has the chance to correct her.

"But I…" Frances says hopefully but stops short, disappointed when the rest of the staff in the busy room shake their heads woefully and return to their work.

"Bette, you believe me, don't you?"

As she begins to knead bread again, the muscles in her arms and upper back working visibly as she roughly massages the large mound of dough on the tabletop in front of her, Bette whispers. "It doesn't matter whether or not I believe you. You better get back to work before Mrs. Timmons hands you your walking papers." Even more quietly, she adds, "Please Frances… this place would be a dreadful bore without you here to entertain me."

Nodding dolefully, Frances moves toward the kitchen door only to be momentarily stalled by the head chef. "You there?"

Frances turns back, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

"Go back upstairs. Find out if Her Majesty requires anything to eat or drink… and this time, don't let all her magical nonsense go to your head, girl."

Frances flashes him a dazzling smile. "Yes, Chef Danes, right away!"

She ascends the servants' staircase on winged feet and flies through the corridors only slowing to a proper snail's pace when she approaches other palace employees who might scold or report her back to Mrs. Timmons.

At the double doors to the nursery, she stops, straightens her apron, breathes deeply, and then taps lightly, waiting for an invitation.

"It's open."

Frances smiles in response to the princess's distracted but casual summons and steps into the room. Prepared to wait to be addressed she is utterly stunned by the rapidly changing décor and she stares in speechless wonder as the room's color scheme is momentarily split.

Half the room is still in complimentary shades of deep royal purple and lavender, but as the young duchess slowly walks the perimeter, her fingertips trailing along against the walls as she goes, the color scheme shifts removing the lighter shades of lavender and replacing it with a vibrant and rather pink shade of magenta that, at first glance, appears too daring to complement the dark stately draperies, but when the redhead's journey around the room is complete, Frances realizes that there is just enough deep purple to give the room balance and ensure that the intense shade of pink allows the room to appear both feminine and bold without overwhelming its visitors.

After a long moment of silence, Norah queries, "Well, what do you think?"

It takes Frances a moment to realize that the brunette was talking to her and is now waiting patiently for a response.

"Who me? Well, I guess I think that's the fastest paint job I've ever seen. It's certainly not the typical choice for a nursery color scheme… but I think that might be why I like it."

"It's not too extreme?"

Frances shrugs. "It's your room. Do you like it?"

Norah turns a slow circle before nodding her head. "I think so. It even works well with the stained glass in the windows."

Eliana groans. "You're lucky. At least your stained glass doesn't depict every known act ever committed by the gods. Don't get me wrong, I love my family, but I swear Daddy's trying to overdose on that stuff."

"If I'm not being too forward, may I ask a question… Norah."

"Of course, you can, Frances." Norah declares with an easy grace

"Why is the duchess providing the magical transformation. Can't you do it for yourself?"

Norah smiles and shakes her head, offering a slight shrug. "Apparently, not while I'm visiting a point in time before I was born. Mini-me has all the power, and it seems I'm using it to make Mom and myself as comfortable, and as happy, as magically possible; though sometimes I think it frustrates Mom a little bit."

"Forgive me, but I doubt that. Why should she be frustrated by it? I would be proud beyond words to have such an incredibly magical daughter."

Norah laughs. "Oh, that's not the part she finds frustrating. Things are going a bit haywire for her, magically speaking. She's losing control of her own powers, except for when her back is against the wall; and it doesn't seem as though she has any control at all over mine. I think Mini-me is trying her patience."

"Well, it doesn't seem as though it will be very much longer."

"No!" Norah chuckles again. "Then, I will be in her arms, if all goes according to plan and, no doubt, trying her patience from that vantage point."

"I'm sure she can't wait."

"That's what she tells me, more or less."

"Do you know where the queen is right now? The chef asked me to have a word with her."

"I think she's in her suite. The midwives are trying to convince her to take a nap," Norah laughs and adds in a singsong voice, "but I doubt it's going to happen."

"She's not tired? I thought every woman as far along as she is was dead tired."

"I'm sure she's exhausted, but my mother does not like to be told what to do. The only two people I know who even occasionally get away with it are my father and my grandfather, and neither one of them is here right now. They're off making sure that their white hats still fit."

Frances squints in uncertainty.

Norah gestures as she talks, rolling her wrist through the air. "You know. Cowboy lingo – white hats versus black hats."

Eliana mutters through pursed lips, "Wrong realm. You've gotta stop watching cowboy movies with J.J."

It takes Norah a moment to recognize her mistake.

"What's a cowboy?" Frances wants to know.

"Sorry, I've momentarily forgotten where I am, and I've apparently also forgotten when I am. A cowboy is someone who herds and cares for livestock, usually horses and cows, hence the term cowboy. In cowboy parlance, the good guys wear the white cowboy hats. The black hats are for the bad guys. Though, I don't think it's a hard and fast rule that people actually adhere to."

Frances nods with sudden understanding. "Alright, but here in Covarrachia pretty much anyone who owns land herds and cares for their own livestock. If your father and grandfather are off testing the fit of their white hats, then may the gods be on their side."

"May they, indeed." Norah agrees fervently.

* * *

Unable to stand the sight of her own exquisitely decorated antechamber a moment longer, Regina rises as abruptly as possible from the only un-upholstered straight-backed chair in the room and marches to the double doors leading to her private balcony. Her hand is poised just above the antique crystal doorknob when Beatrice's gentle voice reaches out to her.

"I'm sure he'll be back any time now, dear."

"I'll kill Zelena if anything happens to him or Daddy!"

Aradia glances up from the drop leaf tea table positioned between herself and Beatrice and the game she's teaching Beatrice to play simply to pass the time. On the table, small rectangular stones similar to mahjongg tiles are painted with the minuscule symbols of the ancient language of the gods and each time a matching pair is removed from the table, the symbols on the 'bones' automatically shuffle, magically re-ordering themselves to new positions within the game. "Robin will be fine. You said so yourself."

"It's taking too long."

"It's only been a few hours, and pacing the floor serves no purpose other than to wear out the stonework, Your Majesty. I wish you'd try to sleep or, at the very least, lie down and rest."

"There's no reason to take to my bed. Every time I lie down, if my back doesn't start hurting, I experience what I can only describe as an absolute compulsion to move. It's like I have no choice. I'm restless, even fidgety, and I don't care for it at all. This is maddening."

Already developing a sense of exactly who her daughter-in-law is, Beatrice laughs quietly. "You're a control freak. That's where the trouble lies. You know something is happening, and you can't stand the thought that you're not leading the charge."

Turning abruptly to face the two women, Regina scowls darkly for a flicker in time but then sighs and nods with only mild resistance. "Okay, fine. You're right. I'm no good at sitting on the sidelines waiting for someone else to take care of things. It's not my style. Happy?"

Beatrice calmly makes eye contact. "Not by a bloody mile. I won't be happy until my boy comes through that door unscathed, and neither will you, but you aren't doing yourself or that baby girl any good." She nods toward the balcony doors. "Go on out there, if you must. Maybe the evening air will help settle you. I'll call down to the kitchen for some more tea, if you like. Just try to be still."

Regina opens the doors in agitation but pauses long enough to nod again. "Fine. I'm beyond sick of green tea, but it does seem to help, at least momentarily. Maybe it's only giving me a brief distraction, but what the hell."

Beatrice waits for the balcony doors to close with a pronounced rattling of their glass panes before she shares a smattering of unspoken communication with Aradia and quietly leaves the room.

Several minutes later, Aradia receives a silent message courtesy of her omnipotence and she can't help but chuckle in response.

Leaning casually against the third-floor balcony railing, her back to the spellbinding view of the star-strewn night sky, Regina raises an eyebrow in unspoken inquiry.

"Just Beatrice. For one who possessed such a remarkably healthy distrust of magic and all those who wield it a very short time ago, she certainly has become familiar, and even comfortable, with it."

"How so?"

"It takes most humans a while to put their trust in a god's omnipotence. It's hard for them to fully rely upon the fact that all they must do to reach us is, think. However, Robin's mother seems to have gotten the hang of it rather rapidly."

"She may not completely trust magic or its practitioners, but it's likely that's simply because it's still largely unfamiliar to her. Faith itself does not seem to be a problem for her, and her faith in Robin and his merry band of friends is unshakable. She wasn't thrilled to find her son married to a woman most people still refer to as the 'evil' queen, but Robin told her not to worry, and it didn't take her long to come around to his way of thinking. Not nearly as long as it takes most people. I was concerned I might have to work a lot harder than I have for her acceptance. What's she currently thinking about?"

"Ordinarily, I would decline to answer that. I don't allow myself to be used as one person's conduit into another's mind, but since she's simply requesting that I check on you… Apparently. the tea is going to take a few more minutes before it's ready, and she doesn't want you left out there on your own for more than a moment or two."

Regina smirks. "Don't tell me she thinks I'm going to go into labor out here and give birth without making a sound."

Aradia chuckles. "She has delivered more than enough babies to know better. So have I. No woman gives birth quietly. Not if she's conscious. However, neither of us would put it past you to go into labor, and delay saying so as long as there was no immediate danger."

Regina raises a suspicious eyebrow. "Is that your way of telling me that you don't allow people to use you to snoop into the minds of others, but you're not above doing it for yourself?"

Aradia chuckles wryly. "No. But in your case, Regina, I don't need to. Not if that white-knuckled grip you've got on the balcony railing is any indication. Either you've got a fear of heights, which I don't believe for a minute, or you've begun labor."

"Stay calm. I'm fine. It's just false labor. It's been happening for a few weeks already."

"Are you sure that's all it is?"

Regina breathes deeply and lessons her grip on the railing as she nods. "There is some lightening. She has definitely dropped in the last few days, and that is, no doubt, the cause for my discomfort with every possible position – especially sitting. However, the contractions are still usually mild and, according to Weil, they are starting in the wrong place. They usually stop when I move, and they definitely are not coming at any kind of predictable interval. I still have three days. We might actually make it home."

Aradia tilts her head with no small amount of doubt and replies softly. "I wouldn't count on a scheduled delivery, if I were you."

Regina tries and keeps most of her irritation out of her voice. "Aradia, she's here. You understand that? She knows her own birthdate."

"Oh, I'm quite certain she left home knowing her birthdate. I don't doubt that but, with all that's gone on, who knows what you've changed. Her traveling back in time and simply arriving here, not to mention, the news she brought you, could have changed everything."

"Or it could have changed nothing. I'm fine. For the moment, I'm fine."

Aradia shrugs. "Okay, you're fine. Let me know when you change your mind."

Regina scowls as she moves for the balcony entrance. "I'm going for a walk."

"I'd rather you didn't."

The queen stops briefly at the door to her private antechamber, "Yes well, like I said, movement seems to ease things a bit. So, unless you're going to have these utterly pointless false labor pains for me, I'm going for a damn walk!"

Aradia relents slightly. "At least stay within calling range, please."

Regina scoffs before stepping into the corridor beyond her quarters and looks back over her shoulder. "I could travel back to Elyria, or any of the other seven kingdoms in this realm and you would still hear me, Aradia."

"Yes, and if I travel alone, I can be there instantaneously. However, bringing people with me is a bit more of a challenge. So, if you want anybody besides myself present for the birth of your daughter, I repeat, stay close, please."

"Understood." Regina concedes reticently and slowly walks away pressing the heel of her right hand into the seemingly ever-present ache in the small of her back.

Twenty minutes later, Beatrice returns with a heavily laden tea service and looks around curiously while chewing on her lower lip to keep from laughing. "Lost her again, have we?"

"I've got a general idea where she's at. I'm trying not to totally invade her privacy just yet, but I do check in every couple of minutes. She just wants a little space. A short walk might cure some of her anxiety. She's pretty tightly wrapped right now and exhibiting a serious case of denial. That baby girl is not going to wait another three days!"

"No. I don't think so either." Beatrice sets the tea service down with an anxious clattering of cup and saucer to accompany her agreement. "Norah has dropped noticeably just since yesterday. Regina is becoming snappish… More so than usual. Not that I've known her for very long, but she's obviously tired, and she's a great deal more uncomfortable than she lets on. She's not one to humor people so, I think she's only drinking this stuff to keep her hands busy; give herself something to do."

Aradia nods. "I won't be the least bit surprised if that child is here before sunrise."

"That soon; you really think so?"

"Beatrice, she's in labor now. She has been for a while. I'd bet every gold piece in the Olympian vaults on that fact, even without the benefit of an examination. It's progressing very slowly and so far, she's fine; other than the fact that she doesn't want to admit she is in labor."

"I wouldn't have pegged her to be one to stick her head in the sand." Robin's mother frowns.

"No. That would be more my granddaughter's style. Zelena would normally be the one to ignore truths she doesn't like, or those that don't serve her purpose. Scale the walls, storm the ramparts, and to hell with the casualties! However, as long as Regina can safely keep that baby inside her belly, she knows she can stay with her and they're both alive and well. I guess when it comes to our babies, even the presence of a goddess is small comfort." Aradia shrugs with an almost never seen flash of modesty.

Beatrice pours herself a cup of tea and pauses momentarily, steam rising from fine porcelain at her lips as she replies, "I don't think it's you she's busy doubting, dear."

"I know that. Have a sip, and then we'll go fetch her. She's been on her own long enough."

Cup and saucer in hand, Beatrice rises to her feet. On her way to the door, she sips her tea, and it takes a moment for the taste of the hot brew to halt her footsteps. Even when it does, she still experiences a moment of indecision. She raises an eyebrow and the frown on her face is slow to form.

Aware that something is not quite right, Aradia touches her shoulder with concern and studies her face briefly before encouraging her to give voice to whatever is on her mind. "What is it? Something's wrong?"

"Well, I don't know. Not for sure." Beatrice bites her lower lip and offers the teacup to Aradia. "What does this taste like to you? It's awfully tangy, right?"

Puzzled, Aradia samples the tea. Her naturally pale complexion colors with alarm immediately. "It's lemongrass alright, and a lot of it. Too much of it. It's meant to mask something else… Something bitter."

Beatrice breaks into a dead run and races for the servant's staircase as the teacup slips from Aradia's grasp. Porcelain shatters against the store floor and dark tea that is a naturally grotesque shade of greenish-yellow pools and instantly stains the fine carpet beyond all hope of repair in nearly the same time it takes her to clutch Beatrice's elbow.

Even before the demigoddess is through saying she has a faster way, Beatrice finds herself rocking on her heels, swaying haphazardly in response to the instant relocation to the smallest of the palace's kitchens on the ground floor.

There, they find Frances, the elf-like young maid alone in the room and scouring the large kettle from the kitchen's only fireplace vigorously. With their unexpected arrival, her round expressive eyes nearly double in size but Aradia wastes no time on pleasantries.

"Bloody brilliant! I wonder, if it's not too much trouble, could you tell me how you did th.."

"Never mind that now, girl. We're here on a matter of urgency. It was you, I believe, who brought the queen's request for tea to the kitchens; was it not?"

"Yes, madam." She bows low. "I do hope that the tea wasn't too strong for the queen's liking. I tried to suggest to Chef Danes that perhaps he was brewing it too strongly, but he would have none of it."

"Why should you do that?"

Contrition floods the maid's eyes and nearly spills from her pores. "I know I'm not supposed to question my superiors but… well, it just seemed to me that the blend he prepared was awfully potent and heavy, especially for an expectant mother. Every time I was sure he would stop, he'd put another herb into the concoction, and I swear, the baneberry made me sneeze from beyond the pantry door. I'm allergic to it, you see, and it was quite potent. He must've added a terrible lot to…"

Beatrice pales. "You're saying he put rattle root in a tea meant for a woman just days away from childbirth?"

"No madam. Baneberry; not rattle root. My Gran told me once, never give that to any woman with child. I would have alerted someone straight away if I thought…"

"Child, baneberry and rattle root are two different names for the same thing!"

Tears of shame instantly spill from the girl's eyes as she lifts her trembling hands to cover her mouth in horror. "I didn't know."

Beatrice raises an eyebrow in suspicion, her voice taking on a hard, cold quality, "Are you quite sure of that, young lady?"

Frances nods pitifully. "Please madame… I wouldn't. I…I like Princess Norah. She has treated me kindly. She has spoken to me as if she were no better than I. I would do nothing to harm her or the queen."

Throwing aside all respect for anyone's personal space, Aradia uses her abilities to tune in and scour the palace, its occupants, and its grounds the instant before she grimaces in loathsome disgust.

"She's telling the truth, Beatrice. She's done no wrong in this. I'm afraid the fault is at least partially mine, but I intend to rectify that directly. Do not make yourself sick with worry, Frances. You are not to blame. I promise I will make certain the queen knows that. Run now and fetch the captain of the guard from his post. Tell him to meet us in the orchard beyond the northern courtyard, fast as you can, dear girl! Fast as you can!"


	23. Chapter 23

* * *

**Kingdom of Covarrachia**

**Mourning Dale Palace**

**Present Day**

Wandering slowly, Regina searches for and finds the orchard's most mature stand of trees with relative ease. Although she has spent no time here in recent years, the path to this place from anywhere inside the palace grounds is fixed indelibly in her mind. She could find it blindfolded. She could forget it no sooner than she could forget how to breathe. Reaching up as far as her fingertips will stretch, she helps herself to the best of several low-hanging apples. Polishing it with the hem of her skirt, she leans back, resting against the sturdy tree and staring up into the night sky. She's lost count of the number of times she's come here seeking solace and a safe place to hide among these tall trees with their lush leaves and sweet offerings. Looking down at her own swollen midsection, she shrugs. "I suppose it's nice that, for once, I'm not dodging your grandmother."

She lifts the apple to her lips, but stares, observing her own actions with shock and confusion as she involuntarily tosses the fruit away before she can savor the first bite.

"Hey!" Regina complains with a grimace, "I wanted that!" She touches her own belly as she chooses another fruit from the tree; forgoing the struggle of bending to retrieve the discarded one from the ground. Helplessly, she groans and watches as the second follows the first. "What? Suddenly you don't like apples? Or are you just amusing yourself? Because, if you are, I have to tell you, young lady, that not having control over my own body, not to mention my own magical ability, has been good for a few laughs but it's really starting to annoy me… So, unless you want me to feed you applesauce every day for the first year of your life, knock it off!" She laughs in self-disgust as she walks to a nearby bench and carefully lowers herself onto the seat. "Great, I'm threatening a child who hasn't even been born yet and, I can't even guarantee that I'll be here a carryout that threat."

Regina searches for the least uncomfortable position, shifting her body, this way and that as she continues to talk to her daughter without any expectation of an answer. "Where is your daddy? What's taking him so lo…" Her breath catches in her throat and she grunts as if she's been kicked unexpectedly, doubles over and flounders wildly for an instant, nearly sliding from her seat in response to the first contraction that's anything more than just a major annoyance. Momentarily taken aback, she forgets how to respond. She forgets how to cope and grinds her teeth noisily, at least until her brain demands oxygen. Then, conscious thought returns and, even though she doesn't want to, she forces herself to sit up straight, inhale deeply, hold the breath for three seconds, then release it slowly.

"Good job."

Regina jumps: startled as much by Aradia's soft words as she is by Beatrice's unexpected hand on her shoulder.

"Sorry dear. We didn't mean to startle you. We're with you."

Regina shakes her head, pulls in another breath, and hisses through clenched teeth. "My fault. I didn't hear your approach. Wasn't paying attention." She exhales with forced control.

"Well, we'll forgive you. You are a tad busy just now. Just remember, if you're not breathing, she's not breathing. Beatrice kneels on the bench beside her and places a warm hand in the small of Regina's back. She offers her free hand to Regina and isn't the least bit surprised by her fierce vice-like grip. "Relax, don't tighten up in response to the pain. Breathe through it. That's it. Give the baby some air. That's it. One, two, three, and breathe. You've got it. It'll start to subside, and we'll just sit for a bit."

Regina shakes her head even as she groans miserably. "I think this is her way of telling me it's time to go back inside." She pants and rolls her head side to side. "That one had teeth. I was expecting a somewhat more gradual progression."

Beatrice chuckles softly. "It can happen that way. However, the rules of the game can suddenly change without warning and a contraction you weren't expecting can sneak up and bite down hard. That's why we've been crowding you."

Regina nods. "I think I'm done trying to get away from you."

"That would make things easier for all involved, especially you and Norah."

Finally feeling what she knows is only temporary relief, Regina rises slowly to her feet and turns toward the palace.

When she groans in response to the distance between where she is, and where her bed is, Aradia seems to understand and is quick to offer, "I can take you back."

Stubbornly, Regina shakes her head. "Let me walk. I'm okay for now. I'm slow, but I'm good."

Beatrice and Aradia exchange a look, study Regina's expression, and then nod.

"We're here. Take your time. Go as slow as you want and yell loudly if things change.

Regina laughs drolly. "I don't think I'm going to have any trouble doing that."

Moving at what feels like a snail's pace, the three of them traverse the grounds in the dark. Candlelight visible through the palace windows beckons to them.

Minutes later, they stop at the entrance to the northern courtyard and Regina braces herself against the gate and, when seized by another searing contraction, she pounds the flat of her right hand against the stone wall, slowly, relentlessly; as if she'd like nothing more than to knock it down, as long as doing so will provide her with the much needed distraction.

Beatrice tries to take hold of her left hand, and Regina is quick to shake her off. "No. Just let me stand here until it's over. I just… Oh damn." She clings to the gate

Aradia nods and puts an arm around her; trying to offer physical support but Regina shakes her head adamantly.

"Take your time. Breathe. You're okay. You can stand here and pound on that wall as long as you need to. When it's over, we'll get you inside before the next one hits."

They take her through the process once again; patiently prompting her breathing and offering quiet words of encouragement.

When she's passed the peak, she straightens and looks around as if searching for something. Assuming she's ready to move, they each offer an arm and she shakes them off again. "Don't touch me. Not now." She breathes raggedly. "Step back. Both of you, step back!"

"Regina, we can't help you if you don't let us touch…"

"Move!" Regina growls and pushes away from them. I told Robin I didn't want to do this outdoors." She pants in agitation. "But I'm not so sure it's a good idea to do indoors either."

Aradia and Beatrice frown and parrot each other. "What? Why?"

"Because she's mad." Regina whispers breathlessly, "Oh, she's one angry little girl." She lifts the palm of her left hand and displays the first embers of violent orange and yellow encased in an ominous yet, delicate, spider's web of black smoke. "I'm not sure I can keep myself from burning the place down."

The queen struggles against her own incendiary impulses as her midwives watch the fiery orb grow exponentially in size. Forced to give up all hope of squelching the monster herself, Regina aims and launches the thing into the massive fountain in the center of the courtyard, causing the water within to instantaneously boil and sizzle out onto the intricately carved mosaic tile.

Half relieved over the momentary cessation of pain, and half annoyed by her own lack of control, Regina slumps against the garden wall. "Aradia, I know Zelena doesn't have a handle on this whole demigoddess thing just yet but, do whatever it is you do. Call your granddaughter. Tell her to get her ass out of there… and bring my husband and father to me, now!"

* * *

**Kingdom of The Enchanted Forest**

**The Black Palace**

**Present Day**

King Henry perches on the edge of a long wooden table in the palace's armory and inspects David's handiwork as the prince finishes tying a bandage around his left bicep and then slaps him on the back with male camaraderie and gratitude.

The old king offers him a firm handshake. "That should hold me."

Hands on her hips and pacing in aggravation, Zelena shakes her head. "Men!"

Henry chuckles. "I appreciate your concern, but this is nothing that won't heal. It certainly isn't life-threatening."

"Fine, Wear your bloody war wounds. What do I care if you want to walk around in pain?"

Robin offers Zelena a look that is equal parts grin and grimace as Snow gently dabs a cloth soaked in essence of dittany against an exposed wound in the upper right quadrant of his chest, near his shoulder. "Zelena, it's not about war wounds, scars; or the bragging rights that come with them. It's not about walking around in pain, or any other such bravado. In this case, it just isn't necessary."

Zelena throws up her hands, sporting a bloodstained bandage of her own. "Fine. You just make sure you tell your wife that I offered."

Robin smirks and Snow offers her own commentary as she returns the cap to the vial of medicinal salve. "I think we can all relax. None of us is in danger of expiring. Thank you. All of you. Just for a moment back there…" She pauses, letting her silence speak for her as the memory of their most recent battle casts a shadow over the room. "Just for a moment, I thought we were done for. We might have been without any one of you. Zelena, that was an exceptional risk on your part."

Zelena's shrugs. "What was I going to do? Let Nottingham run Robin through? How the hell did he get a sword anyway?"

David shrugs. "Things happen fast in battle. All we can tell you for sure is that he didn't have it when he was escorted into the courtyard."

Zelena frowns at the bandage around her left hand. "I should have let him slice you to ribbons."

Robin huffs, his voice dripping sarcasm. "Just when I was in danger of starting to think you cared."

"I do care - about my own sanity. If anything happens to shorten your life, we both know I won't have a moment's peace for the rest of mine; but at least I could heal you – that is, if you'd let me. I can't heal myself."

Robin shrugs. "So, thank you."

Zelena offers him a sour look. "You owe me. "

Snow and David exchange a quiet look but do not interrupt.

Robin grunts drolly as he points at her for emphasis. "Oh, no I don't, Red! After all the trouble you caused when we first met, I think we're even now. You'll just have to settle for having your debt cleared."

"My debt?" Zelena challenges.

"That's what I said." Robin calmly stands his ground.

In the ensuing silence, a quiet, perfunctory knock sounds at the door before a guard steps in, kneels, and waits to be addressed.

"Yes, Gavin." Snow offers him her full attention grateful for a break in the conversation.

"Per your orders, Nottingham has been returned to his cell. All other detainees are downstairs in the dungeon, as far away from him as possible, except for those requiring medical attention. They have been sequestered in the rear courtyard as you instructed. If I may suggest…"

Snow gives consent with a silent nod.

"If this sort of rebellion is going to become commonplace in the foreseeable future, and if you intend to treat all those wounded regardless of their alliance, you might consider appointing an assistant for the palace physician. He's a little busy just now."

Snow chuckles. "Let us hope the sort of thing is not going to become commonplace, but I will give due consideration to the suggestion. Go and offer Braithwaite any assistance you can."

Gavin rises to his feet and bows before leaving the room. "Your Majesties."

Zelena glares at Snow. "They attack you; you take them prisoner but give them medical attention for injuries they received in the attack! That's just great!"

"They may be prisoners, but they are still human beings."

"Nurse your enemies back to health so they can attack you again!"

"More often than not, mercy changes the hearts and minds of those who would not bend under the weight of brutality."

"My sister told me once you were blissfully naïve, but this is beyond stupid. You really are daft!"

Clearing his throat, David takes a step toward the redheaded witch only to be halted by the patient hands of both Snow and Robin.

Robin shakes his head. "You saw her out there tonight. It's not a fair fight, mate."

Snow adds, "As I said before, thank you for your help, Zelena. You have our gratitude, but gratitude does not entitle you to advise me on how to run this kingdom."

"And what are you going to do the next time some of Nottingham's apes feel up to staging a prison break?"

"We'll face that if, and when, we have to."

The wicked witch shakes her head. "Fine. It's your funer…" She falls abruptly silent and looks around, searching for the source of a sound she hears. "What is that?" When Henry, Robin, and Snow each offer her blank stares accompanied by shrugs and turn to each other for clarification, she exclaims hotly, "Doesn't anybody else hear…" She presses a forefinger to her right ear, shakes her head, and flexes her jaw as if she's trying to dislodge fluid in her ears.

They watch her wince as if she's in severe pain.

She pauses to listen to something only she can hear, and when King Henry asks what sound she's referring to, she waves him off, shushing him rudely the instant before Aradia's voice echoes through her conscious mind behind the pain and she understands.

The waiting foursome stares in silence, startled when she suddenly snaps her fingers, beckoning to Robin as if he were a dog. "Come here, give me your hand. We have to go. All of us. Now."

**Kingdom of Covarrachia**

**Mourning Dale Palace**

**Present Day**

As Beatrice opens the door, stepping back to allow Aradia and Regina entrance into the palace ahead of her, they are met by Lieutenant Drummond and a breathless Frances, who has to take three steps for his every one just to keep pace with him.

Drummond hastily surveys the scene and eyes the queen with tempered concern. "The young lady says you sent for me, Your Grace."

Regina raises an eyebrow.

"No." Aradia clarifies. "I sent for you – albeit I did so on the queen's behalf."

Drummond nods but his attention remains steadfast on Regina. "Are you unwell, Majesty?"

Regina shakes her head. "No. I'm fine at the moment. I'm just…" She pants softly. "I'm just having a baby, that's all. Aradia, why did you call for the lieutenant?"

"We can discuss that soon enough. We need to get her indoors before the next pain comes; preferably into bed."

The guard takes a step closer to the monarch. "If you will allow it, I'm happy to be of serv…" He falls silent when Regina's attention shifts slightly to a point somewhere beyond his right shoulder. He turns in time to see Zelena materializing from thin air a few feet away from the still-steaming fountain and being peppered with noisy questions by her four traveling companions.

"Slow down! Why now?' 'Where to?' and 'What's the bloody hurry." come at her from four different directions at once; the last question coming from Robin, but one look at his wife and he needs no answer.

Feeling harassed, Zelena snaps, "All I know is, Aradia said we should come immedi…" She scowls when she realizes that they have all lost interest in the answers to their questions. Every single one of them is suddenly focused on… Zelena belatedly registers in on Robin's arms around Regina's shoulders and the fatigue and pain evident in her sister's posture. "Oh… okay. Good reason. Regina, why aren't you in bed?"

Regina touches Robin's face with affection and then scowls darkly at her sister. "Why is my husband bleeding?"

"Because his head is made of wood! That's why, and for the record, we are all bleeding." When Regina's dark eyes don't soften in the least, she adds. "It's not my fault. I tried. He won't let me touch him."

Regina turns a raised eyebrow to Robin.

Trying to soothe his wife's worries, Robin offers quietly, "It's nothing to worry about, milady. I'm not dying. It's just a scratch and, as long as that's the case, I'd rather she didn't touch me. The last time she did, she violated my mind with memories of a conception I'm not responsible for."

Zelena cuts in with, "Not true. No touching was required - thankfully."

Bending slightly, Robin sneers at Zelena as he catches Regina behind the knees and lifts her feet off the floor as her arms wind their way around his neck in surprise. "If I had time to give a damn about that right now, it would be insulting. If you're going to do something that nasty to a person, you should at least have the fortitude and the temerity to get your hands a little dirty. It's more honest that way, Zelena."

She opens her mouth, ready to deliver a hostile reply, but closes it when she realizes that no one is listening to her as they all stride through the palace corridors, hurrying without running.

Regina gently pushes aside the collar of Robin's open tunic and gasps in response to the amount of blood soaking through his large bandage. "Robin, that's more than just a scratch. What happened? Put me down. I'm okay. I can walk."

"Well, you aren't going to." He stops. Looking left and right when the corridor he is standing in branches off in all directions. "Henry?"

Regina's father steps into the lead, touching her shoulder with paternal concern as he does so. "This way Robin, follow me."

Robin follows the old man through a labyrinth of corridors and up two staircases, only setting his wife back on her feet when she points, opting to go into a room her father has already bypassed. When he offers her a questioning look, she shrugs. I just want to check on the girls." He frowns with concern and she adds, "it's important." When he still looks doubtful, she takes him by the hand and stubbornly escorts him into the room in question without bothering to knock first.

Eliana and Norah turn toward the nursery's door greeting the entire party with surprise.

Eliana speaks ½ second before Norah. "Mum, you're back. How did it go?"

"Did the rebels free Nottingham?" Norah's eyes are wide with anxiety.

Zelena smiles like a disgruntled cat who has just regurgitated its fine-feathered prey. "Not tonight they didn't. We prevailed. Unfortunately, they live to fight another day. Princess Snow demands that all prisoners be treated humanely and given proper medical treatment for the injuries sustained in the attempt."

"Yes, but at least we manage to incarcerate a few more of his followers." David defends his wife's position.

"None of that matters right now." Snow brings the conversation around to the evening's most pressing issue. "Nottingham and his rebels are tomorrow's problem. Tonight, our family's number officially increases by one. So, let's put Nottingham, and all of his nonsense on hold."

Norah's dark eyes slide to her mother and father and instantly cloud with fear. "Mom?" She steps forward, taking Regina's hand with concern. "No. No, this isn't right. We're supposed to have three more days!"

Regina manages a wan smile and shrugs. "I guess that means things have changed."

"Does that mean…"

"I don't know, honey. We'll have to wait and see."

"Stupid!" Norah bites her lower lip. "Elia and I have been fooling around with this stupid room. We didn't come all this way just to do a little interior decorating. I should've been spending time with you."

Regina shakes her head as she pulls her daughter close. "You warned us. Forewarned is forearmed. That's the important thing. Coming here wasn't easy for you. It wasn't even safe. I am so proud of you, Norah. We both are."

Robin touches his daughter's face and her gaze shifts to him. She blinks and then scowls. "Mom, why is Daddy bleeding?" She gently touches his chest just below his right shoulder and is silently mesmerized when a soft burst of healing magical energy glows a rosy shade of plum in the palm of her hand. Although stunned, Norah leaves her hand where it is, not daring to move it even ¼ inch until Robin's bandage falls away, the wound is completely closed, and vanishes from sight; leaving unblemished, sun-kissed skin where the injury used to be. Then, turning her hand to inspect her own palm, she flexes her fingers and stares at it in confusion even as Robin takes hold and lifts it to his lips for a soft kiss. She shakes her head in wonder. "But that doesn't make sense. I can't. I haven't been able to – not since I arrived here." She looks to Regina for an explanation. "Mom?"

Regina shrugs in the same instant that she notices their joined hands. "Let go of my hand and see if you can do the same with your grandfather."

Norah steps away from her mother eagerly. "Papa." She tries to heal the king's injury and frowns when she fails to produce so much as a single spark of magic.

Regina moves to her side and takes hold of her hand again, gesturing encouragingly.

This time, Norah has no trouble producing the healing glow of magic that mends the trauma to her grandfather's arm with the same love and efficiency she gave to her father.

Regina smiles. "You're touching me. I guess I'm bridging the gap between you and the magical ability you've yet to be born with."

"Is it supposed to work like that?"

Regina shrugs. "This is a first-time experience for me."

Robin chuckles dryly. "You're not alone, love. I'm fairly certain this is a first-time experience for all of us. It's only a guess, but something tells me that most expectant parents are not gifted the chance to talk to their child prior to the birth of that child."

While their friends nod or speak in quiet agreement, Norah raises a curious but doubtful eyebrow. "Dad, you think this is a gift?"

Robin steps over to the intricately carved vintage cradle and caresses the tiny purple quilt nestled inside. "I certainly do. Though, I have no idea what I did to deserve it."

Following close behind, Regina ducks under his shoulder and tucks herself into his embrace. She smiles at him, her dark eyes momentarily alight with contentment.

With friends and family looking on from the doorway, they stay this way, transitorily frozen in time until the significance of the moment occurs to Robin and he gently caresses Regina's shoulders, evoking a response.

"What?" She murmurs quietly.

"Henry's book." He whispers, trying not to disturb the ethereal sweetness of the moment. Regina squints up at him in uncertainty until he prods again with gentle insistence, "A little less than nine months ago. Pregnancy announcement, fairy tale style. Remember? Who's the girl?"

Regina stalls a moment longer, and then her eyes go wide with wonder and she reaches for Norah's hand. "Mystery solved."

At a loss for understanding, Norah scowls and shakes her head. Mom, Dad, what are you on about?"

Regina squeezes her hand. "Your story - in your brother's storybook. This is how it began; with an illustration depicting this moment the day we first knew you were on your way. He drew this…" Regina gestures to the space around them. "This moment, and when he showed it to us, we both wanted to know, who's the girl. At that time, we had no idea we'd be meeting you here."

Norah frowns; deeply puzzled. "My story doesn't start this way in Henry's book."

Robin squints. "Of course, it does sweetheart." He turns his gaze to Regina. "Did you bring the book?"

Regina shakes her head. "It's Henry's book. I left it with him."

Speaking as softly as possible, Norah insists, "Guys, I've seen the book. My story starts when…" She pauses with reticence and longing. "My story begins with Mom's death."

Regina scowls. "It did not! Norah, your story began with my returning home from New York. Yes, I was nauseous, tired, and uncomfortable; but I was happy, and I couldn't wait to tell your dad and your brothers. Only, they already knew, thanks to Henry's book.

Norah shrugs feeling confused and afraid to hope. "I don't know what to say except that I've seen Henry's book. My story is in it, but it doesn't start with some happy homecoming and news of my impending arrival."

Regina turns to Robin; an unspoken question burning in her eyes.

Robin's shrugs and runs his fingers through his hair. "It wouldn't be the first time that book offered up an alternative to our storyline."

Regina exhales softly. "Yes, that's certainly true." Intent on saying more, she's cut short by the searing weight of her next contraction.

Aradia steps swiftly into action. "You three can debate this further once she's properly in bed - if you must. Honestly, the important thing is that the story begins, not how it begins. If you don't start letting us take care of you Regina, none of it will matter."

* * *

**Kingdom of Covarrachia**

**Mourning Dale Palace**

**Present Day**

Twenty minutes after being escorted out of the queen's bedchamber so that the midwives could examine her, Robin returns to the room and immediately steps to her side. Taking her hand, he guides his wife through her current contraction before turning his attention to Beatrice and Aradia.

Beatrice nods. "I'm sure you don't need to be told, but this is definitely not false labor."

To avoid usage of the biting sarcasm that rests precariously on the tip of his tongue, Robin busies himself with kissing Regina's temple and straightening her bed linens. "You want to pack up and go home? You say the word, and I'll open a portal right now."

Regina gives it two seconds thought before she touches her own belly and shakes her head resolutely. "Not with the way she's been behaving. If I try to take her through a portal right now, I have no idea where we might end up. For all I know, she might even try to separate herself from me. We're better off here. At least here we have some control over the situation. If we try to go home, and we lose her…"

"Okay, scratch that idea. We'll stay right here."

"Robin, could you…"

"What is it, love? Anything. You just ask."

Regina turns abruptly to Aradia, temporarily distracted by a sudden thought. "Why did you ask for the guard?"

Aradia and Beatrice share a silent look before coming to a decision.

"I wish that this could wait for a more convenient time, but you need to know that the onset of your labor has not come about naturally."

Adjusting a pillow behind her back, Robin stops abruptly and offers the midwives his full attention. Instantly stressed, he takes Regina's hand in his and forces himself to remain calm as he declares tersely, "You're going to have to explain that statement."

Aradia looks them both in the eye and delivers the news plainly. "It was in the tea the chef provided. Regina has been, not so much poisoned, as dosed, with a high concentration of herbs that no pregnant woman, much less one in the final trimester of pregnancy should be exposed to. Many women make the mistake of substituting herbal tea for coffee during pregnancy as a way to lessen their caffeine intake. In the first place, herbal teas are not always caffeine free. In the second, a wide variety of herbs can and, have been, used throughout history to strengthen labor contractions, or in some cases, even used to bring about the onset of pre-term labor."

Robin's face is suddenly ashen, and for just ½ a second, Regina looks terrified before rapidly moving on to a white-hot rage that seems to fill the space around her with a nearly blinding hostility.

"You're saying someone did this." Regina hisses darkly.

Aradia nods gravely.

"Deliberately?" Robin demands.

She nods again. "I'm afraid so, yes. Out of respect for all of you, I've made it a point not to invade people's private space or their thoughts. In retrospect, perhaps I should have. Regina, I presumed that if your labor started earlier than predicted, it would be because of some physical or emotional trauma. It did not occur to me that one among our numbers would commit such treachery. Perhaps I was distracted by the recent discovery of my granddaughter, but had I known, all I could've done would have been to help you deal with the aftermath of his actions. It may be possible for us to stall your labor, if we can put a stop to these contractions before your waters break."

Regina tosses her blankets aside and attempts to rise from her bed, but numb as he is with shock, Robin is still quick enough to block her path. Placing a hand flat on the mattress on either side of her body, he holds her in place and shakes his head fervently.

"Robin, move!" She growls ominously.

He resolutely shakes his head again. "Where do you think you're going?"

Regina glares hideously. "I'm going to personally incinerate that bastard!"

"Later. You have more important things to focus on just now."

Drummond steps forward from his self-appointed post at the doorway of the queen's bedchamber. "Majesty…" He bows, "You must rest, however little you can. You are going to need your strength for something far more vital. The archer's place is here beside you. Allow me to assume responsibility for the turncoat. I will not disappoint either of you."

He waits for Regina to nod in reluctant agreement before turning his attention to Aradia and Beatrice. "You're certain the chef is the one responsible?"

Aradia nods solemnly. "There is no doubt. It's not something he advertises, but he is a devout supporter of Nottingham's. His intent was not only to harm the queen, but the child as well. The young maid who came to fetch you, she meant no harm, but earlier this evening while performing her duties in the kitchens, she mentioned that pregnancy has taken its toll on the queen's ability to wield magic. The chef, Danes, he rather stupidly assumed that meant that Her Majesty is temporarily lacking any magical ability at all. He decided to take advantage of what he saw as a prime opportunity. It was not accidental. He did what he did with complete and total malice of forethought."

Drummond nods. "I see, and the maid? You're certain she is blameless?"

"Entirely. She's in awe of magic, and all those who wield it. Not to mention, she's quite reverent of the princess. Norah has made quite the impression on her. I'm confident she would do nothing to harm her or the queen."

"The chef, has he any cohorts in the palace?"

"I've been searching the minds of everyone within the palace since I discovered his deception. I have found a few people who are uncomfortable with the queen's presence. Some of them are more than just uncomfortable. But I found no one else here whose personal thoughts or intents rise to the level of treason."

The blonde guard turns to Regina once more. "With your permission, I shall personally escort him to the dungeons. If you wish it, you can deal with him when you are able, Your Grace."

Regina is a breath away from verbally issuing the chef's death warrant when Robin shakes his head.

"That's not good enough!" He declares, his voice as hard and unyielding as stone. "I want him out of this house at once! He is not to remain in this palace with my wife and child. Not even in the dungeons. I do not care if he is under lock and key. He will be removed immediately. You can take your pick from any of my men who wish to join you. I don't care how you do it, but I trust, sir that you will make certain he has no chance of return."

Drummond waits for Regina to nod her hesitant approval of Robin's plan. When she does, he steps out into the hallway momentarily and seizes the arm of his nearest brother in arms. Positioning the young guard in his place, he orders, "You stand here. You do not leave this spot." He points to Aradia. You take your orders from her, and only her. No one, and I mean no one, enters this room without her express approval!"

"Yes, Lieutenant!" The young man snaps to attention.

Before Drummond is more than three steps away, Aradia calls him back. "Lieutenant?"

In less than two seconds, he steps back into the room. "Yes."

"I'm normally under obligation to be elsewhere between the hours of midnight and sunrise. However, I don't think I'm going to be meeting that obligation tonight."

Beatrice frowns with concern. "Won't that get you into trouble, Aradia?"

Aradia shrugs. "What is Zeus going to do? Exile me from Olympus? For what, helping to bring a child into the world? Besides, he's already done that."

Robin speaks up. "Aradia, we do need you here, but we don't wish to get any one of our allies into trouble."

She waves his comment aside. "Sure, Zeus can ground me, or bind my godly powers. If he does, I can live with that. I'm betting he won't though; not when that child in question is related to him, no matter how loosely. He's a sucker for family. Which leads me to the reason I called you back, Lieutenant. If it's alright with the queen and her husband, let me have Danes for the night. I will send him in my stead. Something tells me Zeus will get a kick out of that. Plus, Danes might learn a little something about what happens to foolish mortals who anger the gods. If I'm wrong, if he's too thick-headed to learn, you can have him back at sunrise to do with as you wish."

Husband and wife exchange a look before Regina says, "Sure, go for it! If you want to drop him on an asteroid that's on a collision course with the sun, we won't object."

For one protracted moment, Aradia looks as if she is giving the suggestion due consideration. Then she blinks. "I'm not going to kill him. Frankly, it's too easy. I will, however, fix it so that he cannot cause further problems tonight - for anyone. Whatever you decide to do with him at a later date is entirely your decision."

Robin waits for her to act. When absolutely nothing appears to happen, he asks, "Do you need to step out?"

Aradia chuckles lightly. "Of course not. It is done."

Robin squints. "It is? Just like that? Without some ostentatious display of power?"

Aradia sighs drolly. "Robin, we gods may all be related. However, not all of us have a compulsive need to walk around with our heads on fire just to prove how powerful we are."

Regina laughs merrily even as she chokes on the pain of a new contraction. Between clenched teeth, she hisses. "Don't let your granddaughter hear you say that. She will take offense."

Robin offers her his hand to hold as Aradia steps back around to the other side of the bed. "Yes, she would, but that's not important right now." She studies her patient and then turns to Beatrice. "We need to hurry. Her contractions are getting stronger by the minute."

Beatrice lays curious hands on Regina's abdomen and her eyes widen dramatically. "The baby is extremely active."

Aradia nods. "Yes. She's agitated. Our little one is not at all happy about this situation. Her peaceful existence has been disturbed."

With only the slightest prompting, Beatrice eases Regina onto her left side. "I'd best get started on a tincture to see if we can reverse the effects of the tea."

Regina scowls. "Ingesting something I shouldn't have is what got me into this. Now you want me to take in something else to make it stop?"

Beatrice winces slightly but remains steady. "Those are the options at this point. We will try to reverse the effects of the tea medicinally. If we can do that before your water breaks, we can stall Norah's delivery, or maybe even stop it so that it will occur at its intended time. If all we can do is stall her delivery, even for a few hours, we may at least be able to calm her. That will make things easier for the both of you."

Aradia offers, "Our options, here in this realm, are limited, as you know, and so is the time available to us. We must hurry."

Regina gives her a hard stare. "Can't you do something – I mean you personally."

"There are things that even the gods cannot do, and this is one of them. The cause of your problem is not divine. Therefore, I'm only allowed to do what any mortal can do. I cannot use my divine powers to remedy a matter brought about by mortal hands. We gods aren't supposed to interfere with free will. That's rarely ever done and, on the rare occasion that it does happen, it's always done by a god with hands more powerful than mine. "I'm here, Regina, and I'm not going anywhere. I will do all I can. You have my word."

Regina grimaces, thoroughly unsatisfied with the answer she's just received, but the complaint she's about to issue is lost in the sudden cry of pain that escapes her.

Robin holds her hand and murmurs soothingly as the contraction bites down hard.

Unwilling to trust any one of the kitchen staff with the necessary task, Aradia hurries from the room. As she departs, leaving Beatrice to watch over Regina, she commandeers the young knight that Lieutenant Drummond appointed to stand guard. "You're coming with me."

The young man looks confused as his gaze swivels between the goddess and the knight he would normally take his orders from. "But the lieutenant…"

Aradia cuts him off. "Now that he's staying, the lieutenant is perfectly capable of manning his own post. You are coming with me!"

Drummond nods wordlessly and the young knight must run to keep from falling when Aradia clenches her fist around his arm and pulls him along behind her.


	24. Chapter 24

* * *

High above the turmoil brewing inside Mourning Dale palace, the illicit and terrorized chef struggles wildly against unseen bonds that he does not understand. Though his eyes cannot perceive them, his body is, nonetheless, lashed to the night sky. He fights captivity and screams with all his might until he makes the unfortunate mistake of looking down.

Realizing where he is, he looks around frantically, experiencing both clarity and disbelief in the same instant. He shakes his head quite madly and squeezes his eyes shut, trying to black out all that he sees.

His head is the only part of his body that he seems to have any control over. Despite colossal effort on his part, nothing else moves. When he opens his eyes in response to a flash of light that would've been blinding had they been opened, he screams again and nearly swoons from terror when he finds a broad-shouldered male figure in possession of both, a full beard and a dark curly shoulder-length mane of hair, patiently striding back and forth in front of him. He moves freely as though he hasn't a single care and stands on absolutely nothing at all. When the being speaks, Chef Danes does pass out.

Several minutes later, he jumps back into consciousness and the struggle against his invisible bonds starts anew but he gives up more quickly this time, and his voice trembles badly when he asks the now seated being in front of him, "W-W-what are you?"

The being with prominent Grecian features makes a soft noise, indicating amusement. "What makes you so sure I am a 'what' and not a 'who?"

The chef's voice continues to tremble violently. "You m-must be. No human can do this."

"Do what?"

"Be here… Just hanging in the night sky… as if he were a star."

"You're here. You're human. Aren't you?"

"But I can't move. I've been taken prisoner by someone or something. Was it you?" He sneers with hostility even as he feels another tremble roll invisibly through his body. "What are you going to do to me?"

"I'm not going to do anything to you. It was not I who put you here. You put yourself here, or rather, your actions put you here. Though it is quite clear you have angered one of my kin."

"One of your kin? Someone in your family did this to me?"

"it would seem so. You are quite right. No human has the power to do this. I am Zeus. Father of the sky and supreme ruler of Olympus."

Feigning disinterest, the chef cries out, "Well, bully for you! You'll have to excuse me if I don't shake your hand."

Zeus shrugs as if his hostility is of no concern.

Danes waits for something to happen. When nothing does, he demands, "Look, if you didn't put me here, and you're not going to hurt me, then can you get me down from here?"

Zeus nods, but nothing more.

"Well, come on then!"

"Smug bastard, aren't you? The god pauses for effect while Danes stares at him incredulously.

"No 'please help me.' No, 'thanks for stopping by.' Here you are so frightened that you've soiled yourself, and still you make demands."

Zeus rises to his feet and strides away, the sight of him fading from view as thunder rumbles and lightning flashes in the darkened sky perilously close to the man in the invisible shackles.

"W- Wait! C- Come back, please! Don't leave me here!" As Zeus all but disappears from sight, he pleads, "At least tell me how I came to be here?"

In the next instant, lightning flashes again and Zeus's angry face materializes a breath away from the chef's tortured countenance.

Their noses nearly touching, Zeus shouts above the torrents of rainwater that come with him. "You have angered the wrong redheaded goddess. She's supposed to be here now. It would seem that she sent you in her place. You're lucky she didn't kill you." Zeus drops his voice to an ominous whisper. "That's what she did to the last mortal who displeased her."

"Will she release me."

Zeus shrugs. "Being trapped here in the heavens between the hours of midnight and sunrise is her punishment for that unfortunate act. My guess is she will release you at dawn. Unless of course that little witch whose mother you've tried to annihilate tonight isn't born yet. If not, you may spend the day here as well. The night is generally much more pleasant. I'm afraid the sun can be rather unforgiving at this altitude. Even if the child is born before sunrise, I don't envy you having to return to face her parents. Even the calmest of parents can become lethal when their young are threatened. The outcome has yet to be determined but, If I were you, I would stop making demands and spend my time here praying that you are successful. If your efforts are thwarted – well, Queen Regina can be quite volatile even under the best of circumstances. You may come to believe that being trapped here wasn't so bad after all. You may even relish the idea of a return to the night sky."

Danes squeezes his eyes shut against the pelting rain. Lightning rips the sky, setting the stars on fire and thunder echoes through the heavens, laughing at him. When he opens his eyes, he is still tethered to the same place. Rain falls, the wind whips around him; tearing at his soaked clothing and if he could move at all, he would tremble violently from the cold night air that seems to envelop him and chill him to the bone. Zeus is nowhere to be seen.

He hangs there interminably. On the rare occasion that he dares to look down at the earth below, he always wishes he hadn't, because every time he does, he sees things he does not wish to see. The insomniacs of the realm toss, turn, and pace relentlessly. People wake screaming in the night from nightmares he knows nothing of. He sees enemies fighting, and he knows their hatred. He sees acts of passion between lovers that leave him breathless and nearly sick with envy. He sees people lying, crying, cheating, stealing, and doing secret things that most of them wouldn't dare to do in the light of day. He sees people lost in peaceful slumber and despises them for their peace of mind. He sees strangers. He sees friends, and even family, doing things that he is not free to do. The worst part is that he sees all of it with absolute clarity. Nothing is hidden. It defies logic. As he has aged, his eyesight has begun to lose some of its sharpness. Yet, he misses nothing. It's as if he has a front row seat. Even things that happen indoors are not hidden from him despite the lofty altitude of his current prison and, although he does not want to see, he cannot deny the compulsion to look. Ironically, what angers him most are the compassionate actions of one innocent, but very determined small boy.

* * *

**Storybrooke**

**Present Day**

Sweating, and breathless, six-year-old Roland Locksley wakes with a start and sits up suddenly on the inflatable mattress at the foot of Henry's bed. Emma and Hook do have a guest room, and they have very kindly offered it to him, but he prefers to stay near Henry in the absence of his parents. Especially since the bad dreams won't go away. Everybody says that he's only having bad dreams because he misses his parents and he's worried about them. Roland wishes the grownups would listen to him. He knows something bad is going to happen. He's known it since the first night they were away.

In the darkness, he slides off the mattress and approaches the larger bed in the room. With renewed determination, he shakes Henry awake.

"Henry!" Roland whispers loudly. "Henry. Come on, Henry wake up!"

Henry grunts softly as he reaches out. Without opening his eyes, he clumsily pats the top of the smaller boy's head. "What's wrong, Ro? Did you have another bad dream?"

When Roland nods, murmuring in the affirmative, Henry sits up and rips the lower end of the blankets free from beneath his mattress. Picking Roland up, he settles him on the opposite end of the bed, before he places his spare pillow against the footboard and gently pushes the boy's head down against it.

"You can bunk with me if you go back to sleep." Henry covers him up and tries to lay back down, eager to return to sleep.

Exasperated, Roland shakes his head. "Henry, you gotta listen, because none of the big people will. They think I don't know nothin' just 'cause I'm a little kid!"

Henry sighs. "They aren't just ignoring you, Roland. Adults just know more stuff than kids do. You will too; when you're big. It's just a bad dream. Try to go back to sleep, okay? You'll see. Your dad and my mom will be home before you know it, and everything will be just fine."

Roland growls in frustration and throws his borrowed pillow at his brother's face. "Everything is not just fine! Do you want our sister or not? Do you want Regina to come back?" It's not okay Henry! It's bad! It's really, really bad!" He lowers his voice to a whisper as he presses his fists against his eyes to keep the tears away. He whispers because the words are too scary to say in a loud voice. "I think Regina is going to die, Henry. There's blood - too much blood; and nobody's listening! Regina needs our help!" He yanks the blankets from his brother's bed and tosses them to the floor the instant before he jumps down. "If nobody wants to listen, if nobody wants to help me, that's okay! I'll go by myself!"

Henry groans as he sits up again. It takes a second longer for his brain to process the words his ears have already heard - I think Regina's going to die.

"Roland, what was that you said about blood? Hey, slow down little guy! Wait up! I'm coming!"

"I'm not slowing down! If you're coming, you hurry up! We have to go get Frankenstein. He's going with us!"

* * *

**Storybrooke**

**Present Day**

Henry shuffles into Emma's room, pulling on his robe as he goes. "Mom." He whispers hoarsely.

It only takes a moment before Emma murmurs, "What's up kid."

Henry sighs. "It's Roland. The little guy's awake again; another nightmare. He's all worked up. He says if we won't go with him to check on Regina, he'll go by himself."

Emma groans, shoves off the blankets, and puts her feet on the floor. For a moment, she simply sits there in the quiet darkness trying to get her sleepy mind to follow her body. The instant her weight leaves the mattress, Hook snorts in his sleep, reminding her that he is there. She brusquely nudges his shoulder. "Wake up."

"Why?" He pulls the blankets up over his bare shoulders and rolls over as she snaps on the bedside lamp, flooding the center of the room was soft light that doesn't quite reach its corners.

"The munchkin is awake again; another bad dream."

Groaning softly, Hook gets out of bed even as he complains, "Seriously? The kid does know that Her Majesty can throw fire from the palms of her hands?"

More than a bit unsettled by the kid's latest tantrum, Henry admits, "He's starting to worry me. He said something about there being a lot of blood and that he's afraid Mom is going to die. His dreams seem to be getting worse the longer they're gone. Couldn't we just go check?"

Emma pats his shoulder as she reaches for her robe. "Regina is fine. She'd let us know if she wasn't."

Henry snorts. "No, she won't! If anything is wrong, she will try to handle it herself, and you know it."

Hook sleepily rubs his face. "The lad has a point. Regina would do that. What will it hurt to go check on her? We will lose a few hours of sleep, but even if everything is fine, it will make the runt feel better…"

Emma groans. "It's not as if she's there by herself!"

Not ready to give up yet, Henry continues. "I know that, Mom. I also know there isn't much she can't handle, but I don't think these are your average, run-of-the-mill nightmares. I know he usually gets nervous when they are away, but these are different. He's really scared. He wants to take Dr. Weil with us."

Emma sighs. "Okay, okay I know when I'm outnumbered."

* * *

Forty-five minutes later, after stopping by the hospital and persuading Weil to bring medical supplies and come along with them - a feat not made easy by the fact that their reason for doing so centers around the nightmares of a six-year-old child - they stand on Peter's front porch, banging on the door to rouse the old pumpkin grower from slumber.

About the time he finally answers the door with sleep-tousled hair and a sour expression on his face, Henry realizes that their traveling party is one member short. As Storybrooke's sheriff apologizes for the lateness of the hour and explains that they are in need of a few magic beans for what might be an emergency trip, Henry squints into the darkness and asks, "Hey, where's Roland?"

While Weil looks annoyed, Emma and Hook step to opposite ends of the porch, calling the boy's name. Peter slips on a windbreaker and a pair of mud boots beneath his old-world dressing gown and no one comments on the fact that the illicit bean grower looks ridiculously comical as he steps off the porch intending to walk around the side of the house and open the gate into the pumpkin patch that also provides a home for Storybrooke's not-so-secret crop of magic beans.

Just as they are about to open the gate, Roland slips through a loose board in the fence holding a small leather pouch that contains his much-needed treasure.

"There you are." Emma sighs with relief.

"I only went to get the beans. Waking Mr. Peter up was taking too long. If you give him the money, we can go now."

"That bean field is cloaked." Peter rubs his whiskery chin in confusion.

Roland shrugs. "Doesn't mean it's not there. That only means it's invisible. I still found it. Beans don't feel the same as pumpkins."

While Emma and Peter look slightly cross, Hook laughs boisterously.

"What?" He queries when they glance at him with raised eyebrows. "He may be a runt, but he's a smart runt. One who apparently takes after his old man. It's next to impossible to hide anything of value from that thief; reformed though he may be."

"Can we please go now?" Roland reminds them that he's in a hurry.

Emma asks, "How many beans did you pick?"

"Only four." Roland opens his pouch, putting the iridescent legumes on display in the moonlight. "One to get there, one to come back, and two extras just in case we need them." He turns to Peter. If we don't use them, sir, I promise I'll bring them back."

Hook reaches into his wallet. "How much?"

Peter glances at Roland and almost smiles. "Ahh, don't worry about it. I'll put it on the queen's tab. She can settle up with me when she gets home."

The pirate doesn't need further prompting. Putting his wallet away, he smirks. "Works for me."

With no need to go into the garden, Peter shrugs back out of his windbreaker as he returns to the porch. "I'm going back to bed now." He closes the door without saying goodbye.

Emma, Hook, and Henry turn to leave and find that Roland is, once again, three steps ahead of them.

Having already cast one of his beans, they find a portal is already open halfway down Peter's dirt driveway and beckoning to them with its ethereal glow.

Roland wastes no time, quickly retracing his steps, he grabs his brother by the hand and tugs Henry in the direction he wants him to go. "Will you guys come on, please. We need to hurry!"

* * *

**Kingdom of Covarrrachia**

**Mourning Dale Palace**

**Present Day**

Eliana drapes an arm around her cousin's tense shoulders and says in a conspiratorial stage whisper, "Wearing a hole in the floor of your mother's sitting room won't accomplish anything good. Come sit down over here with us."

"I can't." Norah shakes her head. "I can't stand to be here doing absolutely nothing while…" She gestures toward the closed door of Regina's bedchamber. "Maybe we shouldn't have come here, El. I mean, I had to, but I don't think I'll be able to stand it if it was all for nothing. God, I want to go home! At the same time, I can't bear to leave. How do people do this? I feel like I'm coming out of my skin! Why don't they tell us something?" She looks around making eye contact with each member of the small group gathered and waiting with her. "Anything would be better than nothing."

Leaving the comfort of his chair, Regina's father crosses the room and gently pulls his granddaughter into a firm embrace. "They will let us know something as soon as they have something to tell us. As for how people do this, to the best of my knowledge, no one has done what you're doing right now. People generally do not stand around waiting for their own birth. I'm afraid it's up to you to tell us what that's like, sweet girl."

"It's nothing less than torture, Papa." She burrows into his warmth as he holds her tight. "I've never been sorry that I'm alive, and I never will be. But right now, I'd give anything just to make it stop. It's too soon. Something's not right. This is what I wanted to stop. I came all this way, and it doesn't even matter."

"Oh, it matters Norah. I promise you; it matters." The old king's eyes glisten with tears that he won't yet allow to fall. "Even if things turn out just the way you remember them, at least she got to meet you. At least you got to meet her."

"I need more time, Papa. I can't say goodbye to her, I just can't."

Henry swallows hard against the lump in his own throat. "Well, who says you have to?"

Irritable over their maudlin display, Zelena snaps. "Knock it off; both of you! My sister isn't dead yet, and she isn't going anywhere until I say so! Hell will freeze over first!"

Norah turns hope-filled eyes her way. "You promise?"

"Watch and find out." Zelena marches for the door to the queen's bedchamber. Her intent is to barge in unannounced but before the knob fully turns in her hand, the roar of an unearthly wind sounds on the other side of the door and nearly drowns out the cries of surprise coming from within the room. Stalled by the unforeseen commotion only momentarily, she continues on her course. the instant the door is open, Zelena must cling to it with both hands to avoid being thrown across the room by the force of the swirling vortex that is not yet finished tossing unexpected travelers into the room.

Those waiting in the sitting room rush forward to help anchor Zelena in place as she watches Emma, Captain Hook, and Victor Frankenstein burst into the room the instant before the portal slams shut, all of them reaching for the children who preceded them as Regina and Robin protest loudly, "Easy Lieutenant! They're with us!"

Alarmed to feel himself being snatched up the moment his feet find the floor, Robin's son yelps and kicks wildly, making sharp contact with Drummond's shins.

Robin momentarily leaves Regina's side and carefully extracts the boy from the guard's clutches. "I commend how swiftly you act, Lieutenant, but, at ease! This is my son Roland. Currently, he's the smallest of the merry men and he's up past his bedtime, but I assure you, he's no baby snatcher."

Once he is turned to face his father, Roland immediately stops struggling even though he still scowls, obviously perturbed at the rough treatment he's just received. "Daddy, he grabbed me! Why did he do that? I was only coming to help Regina!"

Robin hugs the boy before kneeling and setting his feet on the floor. "It's the lieutenant's job to protect Regina. Your portal opened and he snatched the first person he saw, that's all. He didn't know who would be coming through."

"Oh." Roland scrunches up his nose while he thinks. "I guess that's okay." He turns his attention to the guard. "It's only me. I brought the doctor to help Regina. You're bloody fast!"

Drummond chuckles. "It's my job to be fast, Master Roland, May I inquire as to how you know Her Majesty is in need of a physician?"

Roland shrugs as he leaves Robin's side. Taking his father's place at her bedside, Roland squeezes Regina's hand. "I just know. I keep having bad dreams about her and my little sister."

The Black Knight regards him with skepticism. "You came all this way because of a few bad dreams?"

Roland shrugs again. "Daddy would."

"Well, you're a very brave lad to travel across realms just to get here."

Roland shakes his head. "Nah, Henry was with me. He's not even scared of the Dark One. We brought Ms. Emma and the pirate with us only 'cause Peter isn't allowed to sell magic beans to little kids. So, we needed them."

Emma chuckles drolly. "Thank goodness."

Regina runs her fingers through Roland's dark curls and kisses Henry's cheek when the older boy joins him at her bedside.

"Mom?" Henry's face is etched with concern, "What can I do."

"You're here, that's more than enough. Robin was just about to send Snow for the doctor. Now he doesn't need to."

Roland gently touches Regina's belly, his dark eyes full of wonder and worry. "I came as fast as I could, Regina. Are you and Baby Norah okay?"

"We've been better, but I'm sure Weil can lend a hand. Thank you for taking such good care of us. I'm sorry we're disturbing your dreams though."

"It don't matter, Regina. Not if you need help."

Regina starts to speak but instead struggles not to let her face show it when the next contraction begins with a nearly mind-numbing burst of pain. She closes her eyes and forces herself to breathe deeply while wordlessly but frantically reaching out for Robin's hand. When she feels his touch, she is able to muster enough strength to acknowledge her sister's presence in the room. "Zelena… Take the boys out of here, please. There is someone in the next room who would love to see them."

Roland shakes his head, on the verge of protesting, but Zelena nods to her sister and is quick to take hold of his hand and march him through the door with his older brother's help. Henry, although obviously concerned about his mom, is somewhat more eager to be elsewhere.

As the door to her bedchamber closes, Regina focuses on her breathing and listens as Henry calls out, "Grandpa…Oh, excuse us. We didn’t mean to inter…" Before he can finish, they hear Norah exclaim. "Henry! Roland? Oh my…Look at you! You're both so young!"

Able to picture what is happening in the next room clearly in his mind, Robin chuckles and shakes his head when Roland suddenly shouts, "Hey, put me down!" and Norah laughs merrily announcing," This is so cool…and so weird! Usually, it's you who's lifting my feet off the floor!"

Dr. Weil lets their excited voices fade into the background of his mind as he turns the lion's share of his attention to his patient and quietly checks her pulse; allowing she and Robin to eavesdrop on the conversation a little longer before distracting them.

Obviously confused and not sure what to do about it, Roland exclaims, "I can't pick you up! You're way bigger than me."

"Not back home, I'm not. At home, you're a foot taller than me!"

"Stop confusing me! Who are you? And put me down!"

Regina's father interrupts patiently. "Henry, Roland…" He pauses to clear his throat. "Boys, this is your sister - this is Norah."

A stunned silence is followed by young Henry's quiet exclamation, "Oh, wow!" and Roland's emphatic declaration, "No fair! I'm supposed to be bigger than you!"

Norah giggles at his obvious disappointment as she attempts to smooth his ruffled feathers. "Don't worry. You will be, I promise."

"Norah came from the future to try to help your mom, boys."

"But, Grandpa Henry, that's why we came here from Storybrooke." Roland explains in a tone of voice that implies he still feels as if he's being cheated.

King Henry rubs his palms together like a man with a plan. "I realize that and thank you for coming so quickly and bringing the doctor. Regina needs him right now. She's having a bit of trouble with Baby Norah and everyone here wants her to be born safely. Why don't the four of us go downstairs? We'll let the doctor do his job, you both can chat with Norah for however much longer she is here, and I'm sure there are at least a few cookies somewhere in this palace."

When Roland is obviously reluctant to be drawn further away from Regina, they hear Norah pitch in. "Aww come on. It's okay. Mom won't mind. She doesn't even want me in there and I'm the one who's being born. I don't think they have chocolate chips here but, if we can't find any already made, I bet we can find the ingredients to make almond cookies."

"Almond cookies are my favorite." Roland tells her.

Norah laughs. "Yes, I know."

"You do? How do you know?"

"Who do you think makes them for you in the future? Come with us, Eliana."

Regina sighs with relief as they are heard leaving her sitting room. "Good. They don't need to be here for this, and they can distract each other." As she closes her eyes, momentarily trying to relax, she motions to Aradia and Beatrice. "Ladies this is Victor Frankenstein. He's also known as Dr. Weil. He's a renowned scientist in this realm and Storybrooke's favorite medical man. Fill him in on the situation, if you will."

Beatrice hastily introduces herself, verifying her position as a midwife before she apprises him of Regina's current condition, and then Aradia follows suit before explaining what brought about the queen's labor earlier than expected.

Weil listens to every detail with the calm detachment typical of physicians before asking. "You've attempted to stall her labor? Why? She's close enough to term to deliver safely."

"Yes sir, but the baby is extremely active; agitated physically and magically. Her heart rate is elevated. Although she's not in imminent danger at this moment. Her older self is here with us courtesy of time travel as I'm sure you've just heard. She assures us that something goes wrong with her delivery and that she grows up in her mother's absence. We'd very much like to prevent that. We were hopeful that delaying her delivery might at least calm the baby down and make things easier for both mother and child. Regina's contractions are extreme, and they have become much more severe in a dangerously abbreviated amount of time, but so far, all we've been able to do is slow her down a bit. I don't think we're going to be able to stop her labor with the limited options available to her here in Covarrachia. Regina doesn't want to be moved back to Storybrooke and, at this point, I think any attempt to do so would be ill-advised."

Weil nods. "Based on what you've told me, I concur. She's far safer here than she would be stepping into a portal and thereby making herself vulnerable to the whims of the cosmos or whatever else governs how those detestable things operate."

He quickly moves the only table in the room closer to the bed, deposits his medical bag there, and unzips the large duffel of additional supplies he hastily grabbed from the dispensary at Storybrooke General.

"Regina, I want to examine you myself just to verify what I've heard. I'm going to give you medication intravenously that will hopefully combat the effects of the herbs you were given and stop your contractions, or at the very least, take the edge off them and allow them to progress more naturally." He works, putting the intravenous line in place as he talks.

Beatrice, who is wholly unfamiliar with the marvels of medical science, watches in silent fascination as he inserts a needle in the back of Regina's right hand before he connects the tubing and secures a plastic bag of IV fluid to the upper portion of one of Regina's bedposts by carefully winding surgical tape around both as he continues to talk.

"If we stop your labor, we can discuss moving you later if you feel strong enough to attempt travel. I'll do all I can to deliver Norah safely into your arms. Roland's insistence that something was wrong with the baby was enough to get me here, but he wasn't able to tell me anything specific about your condition. So, I didn't know quite what to expect. As such, I brought the basic equipment and what I'll need to perform a cesarean, if necessary, but I'd rather not do that unless there is no alternative. It'll be safer for you and Norah if you can deliver naturally. Not the least of the reasons why is lack of a proper operating room here, but let's not discuss that unless we have to."

"Fine with me." Regina hisses before she exhales noisily. "Norah has mentioned that something tears inside me. I can't even begin to tell you how much I would really prefer not to bleed to death. If you can prevent that, Robin and I would be…"

"In your debt." Robin finishes for her. He clears his throat, trying not to grimace in response to his wife's fierce grip on his hand as he brushes damp hair away from her face and kisses her warm temple.

Weil nods his understanding and smirks in amusement when Regina scowls in response to Robin's display of affection.

"Go away! When you come back, bring me a big cup of ice. It's hot in here!"

Robin smiles. "You want me to go get ice? Where from? Storybrooke?"

"Ugh, on second thought, never mind!"

"I thought so. Want me to open the windows?"

Regina nods emphatically. "And the balcony doors, too."

Robin crosses the room quickly and then stalls momentarily, asking, "Are you sure about that, milady? It's coming down out there."

"What? It's raining?" Regina complains.

Robin nods. "More like storming."

"Since when?"

Robin shrugs. "You can't hear the wind and rain?"

Regina scowls and gestures to her own abdomen. "I don't know if you've noticed this, thief, but I'm a little busy here! Who cares if it's raining! Open the damn doors! Now!"

Weil nods his own encouragement. "Go ahead. The room may get a little damp, but we need to cool Regina off. As soon as the baby's out, we can close the doors and move the little one somewhere drier. You can step out while I examine your wife and bring up some more fresh cloths and cool water to sponge her down with."

Robin opens the balcony doors and nods as he crosses the room. "I'll be right back, love."


	25. Chapter 25

* * *

**Kingdom of Covarrachia**

**Mourning Dale Palace**

**Present Day**

Looking for anything to soothe his distress, or at least distract him from it, Regina's father sits in an uncomfortable chair in the corner of the largest kitchen near the pantry and pretends to read a book that he has scarcely noticed the title of. Instead, he quietly observes the children. It's a bit like bird watching, really. The moment your subjects know they're being watched, their behavior changes. Impressed by their natural state of paradoxical fragility and resilience, the old king remains silent. He tries to stay perfectly still and hopes to do nothing to draw attention to himself.

His namesake sips cocoa that smells of cinnamon from a heavy porcelain mug while Roland stares at his sister's ginger-haired traveling companion with unabashed curiosity as he uses his finger to sample raw cookie dough from the end of a highly polished silver spoon. "Is she really Eliana?"

Norah smiles, her hands coated with a light dusting of flour, as she rolls generous amounts of cookie dough into balls and drops them onto a scarred old baking tin. "The one and only!"

Roland tilts his head to one side and studies the redhead keenly. "But Eliana is a baby. She can barely walk yet."

Norah's reply is patient. "She is a baby here, in your time, but we come from a time where we're almost grownups. You and Henry already are. You've already moved out. You even have your own house."

Roland nods in quiet wonder, and Henry supplies, "She just started walking and Hades is telling everybody who isn't deaf, whether they want to hear it or not. If a single person in Storybrooke went deaf, he'd take up sign language just so he could tell them about it. Aunt Zelena bought him a video camera and he somehow caught it on tape. A tape he's making everybody watch. I mean, I know it's a big deal when kids take their first steps, but…"

Eliana nods. "You don't have to tell me. I already know. I took my first steps, and my father is acting like I successfully removed an inoperable brain tumor at 10 months old. Even though walking is a perfectly natural thing for a child that age to do."

Henry nods. "Yep. Pretty much."

"He's kind of easy to impress. At least he is when he's not mad at me for being nearly 18 years old. Which, by the way, is something I have absolutely no control over. It gets old fast, trust me."

"Oh, I know. If one or both of my moms isn't telling me that I need to grow up, they're looking at me all weepy-eyed and proud because I did something that every other 15-year-old has probably already done. Parents are weird like that. I don't think they can help themselves."

"Try being the daughter of a god. My dad has enough weirdness for 50 parents."

Henry shakes his head. "No thanks. Two human moms are enough."

Eliana glances at Norah. "Okay, he's probably right about that. That probably makes us about even."

Roland shrugs. "Having two moms isn't so bad."

Henry laughs. "Yeah but both of yours aren't a daily part of your life, and I broke Regina in for you. When I moved in with her, she was not as cool as she is now. She was kind of a mess."

Roland shrugs again, his position unaltered. "I like her."

Surprised laughter erupts from Henry. "That's not what I meant. I like her too. She's… Well, there's no one else quite like her. She's definitely one of a kind. Wait till you're a teenager. You'll get it then."

Roland bobs his chin emphatically. "Okay, I'm waiting."

Norah chuckles at his innocence and bites her lip to keep from telling them that they have no clue how lucky they are.

"Can you stay here with us?"

Her eyes widen in surprise. "You mean me? Here, in this time, even after I am born?"

Roland nods eagerly.

Norah shakes her head. "I don't think it works that way, Ro."

"Why not? You got magic, don't you?"

Norah nods. "Sure, at home, in my own time, where I belong. I've got to go back there. If I don't, Dad will really miss me. You don't want him to be sad, do you?"

Roland shakes his head vigorously. "That's no good."

"Besides, I thought you wanted to be my big brother? I don't think you'll get to do that if I stay here."

Roland screws up his face, thinking hard." I do, but what if we miss you?"

Norah smiles. "You're not gonna have any time for missing me. You're gonna be too busy taking care of the little me."

"Will we ever get to see you again?"

"Of course! You just wait! One day - probably about 17 years from now - something will happen to make you remember. You're going to remember talking to me tonight. You'll remember baking cookies with me, and you'll turn and look, and guess who will be standing right beside you?"

"You?"

"For sure. And the really cool part will be that I'll have been there for a while, looking just the way I look now, and you'll realize that you haven't even noticed."

"Na uh. I'll notice."

"You think so?"

"Course, I do!"

"You wanna bet?"

"Sure!"

What's it worth to ya, shorty?"

"A banana split with at least three scoops of rocky road." Roland sticks out his hand, ready to shake on it.

Norah readily obliges despite the messy condition of his hands, "Deal… and you've got cookie dough all over your hands!"

Roland shrugs unconcernedly. "So do you."

She nods. "Go wash up while I put these in the oven. I'll join you in a minute."

When Roland trots away from the kitchen work area with Henry trailing behind to lift him up sure he can reach the wash basin without climbing on its stand, Eliana drops her voice to a nearly inaudible whisper and asks doubtfully, "You really think he's gonna remember doing this?"

Norah shrugs and whispers back. "I hope not. I'm just trying to keep him happy. As long as he's smiling, he's probably not thinking too hard about what brought me here or why I'm the one baking his cookies in the future, instead of Mom. The poor kid's already having nightmares bad enough to make him jump a portal to get here. I'm not going to be the one to tell him that he might have to go home without her. I can't. It's not fair. He's just a little…" She stops short when Weil wanders into the room, rubbing his tired face. "How is she?"

The doctor lowers his hands, surprised to find himself in a room with five other people and the sole winner of attention from each of them.

"The baby is fine for now." He answers wearily and he places his hands in the small of his back, yawning as he stretches.

King Henry nearly draws his own blood when he bites down forcefully on his lower lip to keep from laughing out loud when his normally sweet-tempered granddaughter's eyes are suddenly alive with fury and she does a spot-on impersonation of her mother.

"I know the baby is fine, you addle-pated grave-robbing clod! I am the baby, and I am fine! How is my mother?"

Weil's eyes widen dramatically as he holds up his hands, warding off the unexpected attack. "Eh, right! If the baby wasn't well, you would be the one to know… probably before me. Sorry."

Norah glowers as she steps closer to him and hisses, "Don't waste time apologizing. Just answer the bloody question!"

He nods, eager to appease her. "Right. Regina… Eh, Her Majesty; she's doing well just now. She's resting. I wasn't able to stop her labor, but the medication has significantly lessened the effects of the herbal concoction she was given. For the time being, she's calmer and in considerably less pain than she was with her previous contractions. Her labor should progress more naturally from here and be less severe until it's time for her to deliver. When the chef gave her the herbal tea, her contractions intensified to a point comparable to those that occur when delivery is imminent. However, at present, her body still preparing itself for your birth. She's not ready yet."

Norah breathes deeply and her voice loses some of its harshness. "Then maybe you've prevented the problem? If her contractions were originally strong enough to bring me before she was ready? Maybe she's going to be okay?"

Weil's face is impassive. "I'm guardedly optimistic, but It's going to be a very long night. I recommend you all find a quiet place and try to get some sleep."

"If my mother is in for a long night, then what are you doing down here in the kitchens? You should be with her."

Norah's grandfather drops an arm around her shoulders. "If Regina is resting, let the doctor have a break so that he will be refreshed and ready to go when he is needed. These things can take hours, sweetheart."

"Your father is with her, as are Aradia and Beatrice. They will notify me immediately if I am needed, I promise. Your mother is in very good hands. They are attending to her every need. Your aunt even left momentarily and returned with the seven dwarves marching in her wake and toting enough ice to fill the royal bathtub. At present, your mother is cool. She is as comfortable as we can make her, and she's very close to napping."

Norah scowls. "Napping? She can do that while in labor?"

"In the early stages, between contractions, yes. Most mothers don't really sleep. They just try to relax and conserve their energy for as long as possible."

Norah chews on the inside of her cheek, considering her next words for a long moment before she finally relents and says, "Thank you."

She's halfway to the kitchen archway before he says, "You're welcome."

When she steps out of view, it's Eliana who calls her back. "Where are you off to, cousin?"

Norah pokes her head back in the doorway, her right eyebrow raised as if it should be obvious. "I'm going to see my mother."

* * *

Minutes later, Norah taps quietly at the partially opened door to her mother's bedchamber and is surprised to find the monarch robed in a flowing black empire style gown and seated in her own bedside chair, a high-backed Queen Anne, with her ankles crossed atop an upholstered footstool, as opposed to lying in bed. Norah smiles politely as she sidesteps the guard. Crossing the room, she reaches out and gently touches Regina's free hand - the one that Zelena is not currently manicuring - and, as she kneels beside her mother's chair, Robin squeezes her shoulder in a quiet but affectionate greeting.

When Regina opens her eyes, she offers her daughter a slight smile.

"I just saw Weil downstairs. Are you okay? Can I bring you anything?" Norah realizes belatedly that she's whispering; as though she's afraid of disturbing the precarious balance of things.

Regina chuckles wryly. "Anytime in the last few months when I've tried to imagine what this night might be like, it was never quite this weird, or wonderful."

Norah silently raises an eyebrow.

"Zelena has supplied me - and half the kingdom- with ice. I'm not going to eat or drink anything else tonight if I can help it. It's not recommended. Even if I do, it's not your job to wait on me, Norah. We're all here for you. You're not supposed to be here for me… And if anyone had ever dared to suggest to me that your aunt would sit here quietly and volunteer her services as a manicurist… Well…"

"Don't get used to it!" Zelena quips dryly as she makes good use of an emery board. This is a very limited engagement. I only do this for a select few people, and only when they are actively trying to pass a human being the size of a small watermelon out of an opening that has been stretched to the size of a large lemon."

When her daughter winces, Regina cuts her eyes in her sister's direction. "Nice Greenie."

Zelena shrugs, refusing to be chastised. "Hey, you made me watch that damn birthing video with you. Did I lie?"

"Oh, stop acting like it was a shock to your delicate system. Robin watched it with me too, and he was nowhere near as squeamish as you. You've done this before, remember?"

"When you're the one who's doing it, you're not plagued with an unobstructed view of the show."

Regina lifts one shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. "She has a point there."

"You're sure there isn't anything I can bring you?"

"Get some sleep, Norah. I don't think anything important is going to happen for a while."

Norah laughs. "Sleep? You're joking, right?"

Regina shrugs and places a tender hand against her belly. "Apparently, neither version of you is going to sleep tonight. Go on, though. You don't need to watch this. Get out of here."

"And go where?"

Regina smirks. "Go find J.J. I'm sure he can think of something to distract you."

"Mother, that is not funny!"

A slight shutter passes through Regina's body and Robin instinctively reaches for her.

She gently pushes him away, shaking her head, as she informs their daughter, "Don't call me that. 'Mom' will suffice."

"Okay…Mom."

The girl heads for the door. When she passes through, before she's out of sight, Regina calls out. "Norah…"

She turns back and watches as Regina caresses Robin's face.

"When you get back home, if I'm not there… You did your best. Nobody has the right to ask for better. Not even me."

Norah hesitates, then nods her understanding.

"Hug your dad and your brothers for me, okay?"

Norah shakes her head. "Stick around. Do it yourself."

She steps out of sight and it takes Regina a moment to arrange her thoughts. "Boy, she's… Indomitable, isn't she?"

Robin nods. "But she doesn't know it."

"You're going to have to work on that. She needs to trust herself; stop second guessing everything she thinks and does."

"She needs her mum."

Regina squeezes his hand. "Well, if we haven't changed the future already, I don't know what else I can do at this point."

"You can close your eyes and try to get some rest."

She does as he suggests, allowing her shoulders to relax and her features to soften.

"Don't you want to lie down, love?"

"Umm umm. The chair is more comfortable. The bed makes my back hurt worse. I'm fine here for now. You could use some sleep yourself. It's been a long day. I know you're tired."

"I'll sleep when you do, deal?"

She chuckles softly. "Deal."

He watches her quietly for a few seconds. "I thought maybe you were starting another contraction a moment ago. "What's wrong with 'mother?"

Intuitively, Zelena chimes in again as Regina yawns. "Makes her feel like Norah's talking to our mother.

Regina nods. "Cora insisted on that word because it was proper… and cold. She wouldn't tolerate anything softer - anything that might convey some hint of warmth or affection. Not that I felt much by the time I was Norah's age. Uh, that is, by the time I was a teenager. Use the word 'mother' in the wrong tone of voice and it sounds like a substitute for a far more vulgar word. I should know. I did it often enough." Regina wrinkles her nose in disgust. "Henry chose 'Mom' without any prompting, and that works for me. It's not overly sweet, but it's not rigid with propriety either."

Robin checks the contents of the crystal chalice sitting within easy reach on the table beside her chair. "Do you want more ice?"

Regina shakes her head and murmurs, "No… A blanket would be nice though."

Rising to his feet, he quickly pulls the down quilt from the bed and drapes it over her. "I guess we finally got you cooled off. Want me to close the doors and windows."

"Uh uh." She murmurs again as she pulls the blanket up around one shoulder, leaving her other arm free for Zelena who quickly finishes her nail filing. "I like the storm."

Smiling, he runs his fingers through her hair before he steps away.

Taking note of her sister's relaxed posture, Zelena offers, "I'll come back later and do the polish if you like. Try to get at least a little sleep. I'm going to go find Eliana."

Regina mutters an incoherent reply as Zelena quietly slips from the room, but she opens her eyes long enough to watch Robin help himself to a pillow, which he moves to the opposite end of the bed, propping himself upright there so that his hand is within easy reach of hers.

A short time later, she doesn't know exactly how long, she jerks awake with a sharp intake of breath and a yelp of pain. Closing her eyes again, she grinds her teeth together and mentally tries to get a handle on the moment. Just about the time her brain screams, "Breathe!" a patient voice in the room echoes the thought.

"Daddy?" Regina opens her eyes to find him standing just inside the balcony doors with his eyes turned to the storm outside and his hands clasped behind his back. Even caught between the volatile contrasts of raw lightning and the soft glow of candlelight inside her room, the specter of him is nothing less than a comfort to her.

He approaches slowly. Not really knowing what else to do, he simply offers her his hand to hold as he quietly waits for the contraction to end.

When it finally does, Regina inhales with relief. "They're getting stronger again."

"Shall I call someone?"

Regina shakes her head even as she looks around the room. "No, it's okay, Daddy. This is what's supposed to happen. The pains will gradually get more intense and come closer together as I get nearer to delivery. They still aren't as intense as before Weil intervened, and they're also less erratic. This is better. This – well I don't really know how to put it into adequate words – but this feels more natural. Before it was just all – wrong. Not that I have any previous experience to draw from."

Henry nods. "Well, you took all those baby classes for a reason, right?"

"Yes, we did. Nothing Robin and I learned was really set in stone, the classes were just meant to be a guide. Everything I learned and everything I felt before the doctor got here told me that something was wrong. I think I would've known that even if Norah hadn't shown up to warn us. Where is Robin?"

"He's not far. He'll be back momentarily. He wanted to clean up a bit. When you dozed off, he decided to take advantage of the moment."

"How long was I asleep?"

"Not long. No more than 15 minutes at best. I came up and knocked just to check on you and the ladies said they could use some coffee. I told them I would stay with you." He's quiet for a beat when a thought occurs to him. "I hope that's okay."

"Of course. Why wouldn't it be, Daddy?"

He shrugs, looking slightly awkward for a moment. "Your mother didn't want me in the room when she did this. So, if I shouldn't be here, just tell me so. I will stay until someone else comes and then leave you in peace if you'd rather I wasn't h…"

"Daddy just stop. Of course, you're welcome here. She's your granddaughter!"

"Yes well, you are my daughter, and that didn't seem to matter to your mother."

"You shouldn't try to gauge every woman's expectations according to what Mother wanted. Mother was a sociopath."

"Regina!"

Regina laughs. "Well, she was! In fact, she still is, even in death."

The old king tries not to, but he can't help but chuckle. "You shouldn't talk that way about your mother - even if it is true."

Robin steps into the room wearing a curious smile. "I leave, she's asleep. I come back, she's awake and laughing. What's going on in here?"

"Daddy's just trying to find his personal comfort zone. He's feeling a bit displaced. He was born into this world where royal men went about their daily business as if nothing special was happening while their wives gave birth. Or, if perhaps, they were a bit more compassionate than the majority of their brethren, they paced relentlessly in some distant part of the palace, far away from the immodesty of the blessed event and waited to be informed. It was all very proper. Now, he lives in Storybrooke where men attend birthing classes with their wives and are actively engaged in the births of their children. And, from what I've seen, I think he likes it. He's concerned about me, he wants to be here, but everything he remembers tells him that people of his gender are not supposed to be in this room – even briefly. Having my mother for a wife certainly didn't do anything to dissuade him from feeling this way."

Henry lets her finish speaking before he considers the totality of her words and then nods. "In a nutshell."

"Then, you weren't in the room when Regina was born?"

"No. The nurse brought her out to me before she was even five minutes old and placed this beautiful angry girl-child in my arms. If Cora had been allowed to have her way, it's likely I wouldn't have even been in the kingdom."

"I can't even begin to fathom what it would've been like to miss Roland's first breath." Robin shakes his head with disbelief and empathy for the older man.

"Robin delivered Roland himself, Daddy."

Henry raises a curious eyebrow; obviously impressed.

"Not that I planned to. The midwife who was supposed to deliver Roland had a bit of a righteous temper. Apparently, one of Nottingham's lads tried, but failed, to seduce her earlier in the evening, and the subsequent tongue-lashing she gave him landed her in the stocks."

Henry chuckles quietly. "Good heavens."

Robin shrugs. "The best-laid plans…"

"Not entirely unlike this. Robin and I made plans for this little girl to be born in a nice sterile hospital. One with lots of medical staff and plenty of medication. That was our plan." Regina gestures to the storm outside. "And apparently the gods are laughing at us so hard that they are weeping."

"Well, I may not have been in the room to personally witness your first breath, but I certainly heard it."

You mentioned she was angry?"

Henry nods. "Boy, was she! She screamed with her very first breath. The few minutes before she was actually in my arms felt like an eternity. Red-faced, with her tiny little hands balled into fists, and mad at the world! She wailed so loudly that her entire body shook violently for several seconds after the nurse gave her to me. It took some time, but eventually, she quieted and when she did, she just stared up at me with those deep dark eyes of hers as if I were some strange and wonderful thing."

"You still are."

Henry touches his daughter's face; paternal pride moistening the corners of his eyes. "Maybe, but I'm not half as breathtaking as you, my girl."

Regina smiles even as she brushes his words aside. "Enough with the flattery. How about a game of chess Daddy?"

Henry's eyes widen in surprise. "Are you sure you're up to that?"

Regina raises an eyebrow. "Up for what? Moving pieces around a chessboard? Daddy, if I don't even have the energy for that, I'm in trouble here." She gestures toward her own abdomen. "I'm stuck in this room. I'm not going anywhere for the foreseeable future. Except for the occasional bouts of searing pain, I'm bored out of my mind. Come on, play with me." She rubs her hands together like a person expecting satisfaction. "The winner can decimate Robin in the next round. He's a terrible chess player!"

Robin rolls his eyes. "If I'm so terrible at it, why do you enjoy beating me so much? I thought you preferred to challenge yourself?"

Regina pretends she didn't hear him.

* * *

Two hours later, with dawn approaching; the sky still leaden gray and wet. Emma knocks tentatively and waits for an invitation from a disgruntled Regina who is propped up in bed and surveying a game between her husband and father. "Daddy! You're supposed to be playing against him, not teaching him how to beat me in future games!"

"Excuse me? Whose game is this? Close your eyes, go back to sleep."

"I was not asleep! How can I be with two of the most significant males in my life plotting against me? This is absolutely treasonous!"

Emma chuckles in uncertainty and points back the way she came. "Should I come back later?"

"Only if you're planning to join them. What's up, Emma?"

"Roland's asleep, but he made us promise to wake him up if you start having trouble of any kind. Maybe we shouldn't have brought him here, but the kid was all worked up."

"It's alright. This isn't the first time he's had bad dreams while we were away, and previously, when we were in the underworld, Robin and I simply dismissed it as being a bad case of nerves directly related to our absence. However, bad things happened on that trip as well, and his sister went to an awful lot of trouble to get here to deliver a message not unlike his own. I'm starting to wonder if maybe we shouldn't pay a little more attention to his dreams."

Emma scoffs. "Don't tell me you're thinking he's some sort of oracle."

Regina shrugs. "Maybe he is. Maybe he's not. Stranger things have happened."

"Oh, come on!"

Regina turns her most impenetrable stare on the blonde. "Says the savior?"

"Yeah, but what have I ever actually saved?"

"Oh, not much. Just the entire town of Storybrooke, and everyone in it, including our son… multiple times."

"But Roland? He's just a little kid. Not to mention the child of a very mortal, albeit retired, thief."

Regina's expression darkens. "And my eldest son was born the illegitimate child of an unwed teenage jailbird. It makes him no less a prince."

Robin momentarily gives the younger woman his undivided attention.

"Well, all I mean is…"

Henry clears his throat without bothering to take his eyes away from the chessboard as he contemplates his next move. "If I may give you a friendly piece of advice Miss Swan… When you find yourself in a hole; it's time to stop digging."

Emma clamps her mouth shut for an awkward moment before nodding and then plowing bravely on. "So, Norah arrived with news that seems to lend weight to Roland's nightmares."

"That she did." Regina concurs dryly.

"Do you think you've done enough to stop it from happening?"

"Time will tell." Regina comments just as dryly as before.

"You certainly seem to be handling the news well."

"This is not the first time I've faced death, Emma. But while we're on the subject, if things don't work out in my favor, I'm going to need you to do something for me."

When both the men in the room suddenly look stricken by the turn in the conversation, Emma tries to steady herself in the face of an expected bomb blast.

"Make sure Henry graduates. And not just from high school. He needs college. And don't let him marry the first girl he sleeps with either."

Emma chuckles with relief. "Oh, come on, Regina. You never know. She might not be that bad. Where would you be if you'd married the first person you slept with?"

"I'd be widowed. You?"

"Okay, scary thought. Point taken."

"Good." Regina suddenly cringes and forces herself to inhale deeply. Between clenched teeth, she asks, "Anything else?"

"No, that about covers it. I hope." Emma watches Robin take his wife's hand in his and capture one of the king's bishops simultaneously as she hurriedly backs out of the room; eager to be anywhere else.

"Emma?"

She turns back reluctantly. "Yeah, Regina?"

"Ask your mother to come see me…Ugh… In about five minutes."

Emma turns on her heel, calling out, "Mom!"

As directed, five minutes later there's a polite tap on the door before Snow pokes her head in to find Regina lecturing Robin, "No, don't do that! If you do that, he's going to have you in check in two moves."

Henry laughs at his daughter and informs Snow. "Apparently, she objects to my teaching him to play better, but not to doing it herself."

"Well, somebody has to take pity on him. This is embarrassing!"

Robin scowls comically as he squeezes her hand with cantankerous affection. "Has anyone ever threatened to smother you with your own pillow, Your Majesty?"

"No, but if anyone ever does it; it won't be you."

"What makes you so sure?"

"The fact that you refuse to even talk about the possibility of my not being here tomorrow."

Robin grunts with displeasure, and Regina gestures his way as she makes eye contact with Snow.

"You see. Monosyllabic grunts. That's pretty much all I get from these two when the subject of my demise comes up."

Snow smiles warmly. "Well, that's good news; isn't it. Don't tell me you'd rather they were eager to discuss it. I've been talking to Norah. She's an impressive girl, Regina."

"Well, don't compliment me. Apparently, I had very little to do with it."

Snow steps into the room, closing the door behind her. "Surely you've had time to change that."

"We hope. I think we've done all we can." Regina reaches into the drawer of her bedside table and offers her former enemy a narrow box, approximately 20 inches long, carved from the wood of the Acacia tree and bearing intricate scrollwork and lettering in the ancient language of mages. "Just in case…"

Snow nods. After curiously removing the top, she stares at an ancient and gnarled acacia wand and the incongruous modern silver key nestled beside it in the box's black velvet lining. Sensing the significance of the moment, Snow simply lifts her eyes to meet Regina's and waits.

"I want you to look after my wand for me. When she's old enough, it will be Norah's. Until then, I entrust it to you. The key is to my safe deposit box in Storybrooke. Robin will have to go to the bank with you, but Inside that box, you'll find various items including my last will and testament. As my executor, I'd like for you to see that the instructions within are carried out. The apple barn belongs to Robin. The house on Main Street belongs to our three children. They can either live in it when they are old enough, or when Norah becomes 21, they can sell it and split the proceeds from the sale between them. In the interim, there is a trust to maintain the house. Each of the children have trust funds. Recently, Henry and I have discussed the fact that Storybrooke is badly in need of its own newspaper. As you already know, there is unused office space in the town hall building. I told him that as long as he promised not to let his grades slide, on his 16th birthday, I would open the space and allow him to put out a twice-monthly newspaper, and if things went well, if he could manage it without putting too much pressure on himself, maybe eventually move publication up to once a week. When he's old enough, Roland gets my Mercedes. Robin will take care of it until then. When Norah is old enough for the wand, she gets access to my vault and everything in it. She also gets the saddle that Daniel had made for me. Of the three of them, I have a feeling that she will get the most use out of it. Robin knows where it is, and he also gets to make the decisions regarding any personal property not mentioned in the will. Also, I'm afraid you get the undesirable job of presiding over the next mayoral election. May the gods be with you. There are several other smaller bequests to be made as well. It's all written down in the will. Any questions?"

"Just one." Snow admits softly. "Are you sure you want to entrust all of this to me?"

Regina nods without hesitation and gestures to the men in the room. "These two have refused to even discuss it with me."

"Alright, but what about your sister."

Regina laughs. "You want me to leave my sister power over everything I hold dear in this life? We've come a long way Snow, but to the best of my knowledge, hell has in frozen over… Yet."

"And you think you and I have come that far?"

"Snow, I promise, if you get sappy on me, I will have Lieutenant Drummond lock you in the dungeon until after my funeral!"

Snow forces a solemn expression onto her face and nods. "Thank you, Regina. Anything else?"

"No…" Regina quickly reconsiders. "Actually, yes. There is one other thing. When she's old enough, will you please teach my daughter the proper way to wear a crown, and how to walk in a pair of heels. Because I love the man, but her father just isn't going to do that."

Snow stifles a giggle as the unbidden image of Robin trying to give deportment lessons suddenly fills up her mind. Then, she clears her throat. "I'd be proud to."

"Good. Now get out of here. Preferably before you start searching your pockets for a handkerchief."

Henry rises to his feet catching them all by surprise. When he stoops to kiss his daughter's cheek looking like he's soon going to be in need of his own handkerchief, she queries, "You're going too? You haven't finished your game."

Henry nods. "We have time enough for games. You and Robin need to be alone together now while you still can. Once little Norah is here, it'll be a few years before you get more than a few stolen moments together."

Regina squeezes her father's hand with affection. "Well, Zelena's already gone to check on the girls. Emma will keep the boys under close watch. If you need something to do, you can confer with Snow and David about whether or not the Black Palace is going to require any assistance detaining Nottingham and his not-so-merry band of swine."

"I'm off. Only, don't call them swine, dear. That's an insult to a perfectly noble creature."

"If you say so, Daddy."

"I do. If you need …" He pauses beside Snow at the doorway. "Well… anything, just yell."

"Thanks, Daddy."

He smiles. "Anytime."

* * *

Four hours later, as midday arrives just as wet as midnight had been, Weil eyes both of his tired but expectant parents with moderate concern. "Between contractions, I want you up on your feet, Regina."

Flushed and panting, the queen glowers at him from her bed.

The doctor pats the air, trying to soothe looks of hostile disbelief from Regina and paternal anxiety from Robin. "Regina, you're still doing okay, and you don't have to run a marathon – nothing of the sort - but I want you to take a slow lap around the room, or maybe halfway down the corridor."

When Regina continues to glare at him with incredulity he adds, "With support, of course." He looks to Robin and the midwives. "Do not allow her to stand or walk unaccompanied. I don't care if she takes fewer than 30 steps before she goes back to bed. I just want her to move."

He addresses his patient directly. "You've stalled. Your labor is nice and strong, but you're not progressing. I know you're tired. My concern is that, if she doesn't arrive soon, you may be too tired to do what she needs you to do by the time she does decide to join us. Maybe some light exercise will help get the baby on her way. It seems as though she's a bit reluctant to leave the warmth and security of the womb. She's not in distress. She's just being stubborn."

Robin laughs. "Imagine that! A child of yours, being stubborn?"

Regina elbows him stiffly in the ribs. "She's yours too! And quit laughing! It's not funny!"

Trying to make amends, Robin kisses her temple, but breathes quietly into her hair. "it's a little funny, mi'lady."

Regina shoves him roughly and he loses his narrow perch on the side of the bed and winds up with his ass on the floor.

Getting quickly back to his feet and putting a foot of space between himself and his wife, Robin nods when Weil repeats, "After the next contraction, get her up and moving."

Another two hours crawl past filled with strong but unprogressive contractions until Regina, and her current companions, pause in the doorway of her room. Taking their lead from her, Norah and Zelena stop moving momentarily and allow her to lean against the door frame with one arm around her sister's neck as she cringes in pain and waits for the searing peak followed by the tapering off that seems to bring her less relief with each new occurrence.

"Here." Zelena places a hand against her sister's belly. "Let me do what I can to help."

A pale green glow begins to emanate from her hand and, inside Regina feels an immediate response, though not the one she expected.

Simultaneously, both mother and teenage daughter demand, "Stop that!"

"What?" The redhead objects to their strident tones. "It's just a little pain relief."

"Yes, well, if she doesn't like it!" Regina declares as Norah shakes her head adamantly and confirms, "Nope, definitely not."

Zelena's scowls in confusion. "Isn't pain relief generally considered a good thing?"

Regina shakes her head vehemently. "Not when it makes a baby have some kind of fit and head butt her mother from the inside! Stop it! She doesn't like it!"

"Hey!" Zelena puts her hand on display a full foot from her sister's abdomen. "I already stopped."

Norah looks a little green around the gills when she hisses drolly, "Yeah, well, don't do that again! I don't feel so good."

"Regina, leave it to you. You would be the one person to have a kid show up and sass you before she's even born."

Regina rolls her eyes as she inhales deeply. "She's not sassing me. She's sassing you."

"But why shouldn't she feel good." Zelena points at Norah.

Regina motions toward the bed and they get her there without hurrying or wasting time. Holding on to a bedpost as she turns, she says breathlessly, "I think maybe you're overloading her. She can already tap into my power. Now you're surrounding her with yours… or, at least, you were. Maybe it's too much for her. She is just a baby." Regina lets go of her sister and squeezes Norah's hand. "Are you okay now that she stopped?"

"I think so."

"How do you feel?"

"I don't know. Drunk, I guess, but not pleasantly! I kind of want to hurl. I'm all jittery and, all of a sudden, I'm more than a little claustrophobic."

Regina eyes her sister. "Thank you. But let's not do that again."

"Fine! Try to help a person…"

"Shh. Shh." Regina tries to quiet her.

"What?" Another one, already? Well, it's about damn time! Maybe I should do it again if it will encourage the little brat to get moving."

"Hey!" Norah objects to the unfavorable name-calling as Regina seizes her sister's wrist an inch away from her abdomen.

She hisses darkly. "Touch me again, Greenie and you will draw back of bloody stump."

Before Zelena can issue another complaint about her lack of gratitude, the two of them watch in surprise as Regina's face goes perfectly blank.

When she doesn't know whether to groan aloud or smile, she whispers, "Robin!" and then repeats much more loudly, "Where's Robin?"

She hears his boots pounding the stone floor the instant before he calls out with his voice somehow muffled, "I'm coming, love."

In the next instant, he's through the doorway, reaching out for her with one hand. In the other, he holds a hastily prepared sandwich. He finishes his current bite and smiles sheepishly. "I'm here. Sorry, just went down to grab…"

Regina nods. "Lunch. I know. You told me. Give me a bite."

Robin nods, holding out his sandwich even as he raises a concerned eyebrow. "I thought you didn't want…"

"I know. But that was hours ago, and I'm starving. Anyway, I don't think it's gonna be much longer. I know they said in class that the pressure would increase just before delivery, and they were not kidding. She just moved and… wow!"

She gently presses his hand to her belly in the same instant that her water finally breaks, and before she has time to think about how to react, much less do it, Aradia is suddenly there beside her, guiding her down onto the bed with strong hands and Beatrice is resolutely rounding up all the extra people in attendance.

Lunch forgotten; Robin absent-mindedly deposits his turkey sandwich on the bedside table as his mother commands. "If your name is not Mom or Dad, then get out!" She forcibly marches them backward through the door. Once they're standing on the other side of the threshold, she reaches out to gently caress her teenage granddaughter's face. "You be good, honey." She says sweetly before bellowing loudly, "Somebody wake Weil."

Understanding that Beatrice's quickly spoken, but heartfelt, words to her are issued in place of a likely goodbye, Norah nods, answering softly. "Yes, ma'am." Then, she lingers for as long as possible, staring at her parents through the rapidly closing gap in the door.

* * *

"Lie down." Aradia orders plainly.

Before Regina has time to even think about it, she is being moved, rather brusquely into position. Her two midwives are not rough, exactly, but they don't waste any time either. For two women who only recently met, they work well in tandem with very little verbal communication required between them. Without s a word, they strip away the goose down comforter and move it to some out-of-the-way corner of the room and turn her lengthwise across the bed with each of her feet braced in the seat of a pair of straight-backed chairs brought up from one of the palace's dining rooms.

Robin reads the shocked expression on her face and, although he doesn't laugh aloud, his blue eyes are tender with understanding and just a hint of mirth. "Pillow?"

"Not unless they've got me where they want me."

Busy with last minute preparations, Aradia makes eye contact briefly. "You'll be fine. You're just usually the one who gives the orders. After this baby is safely in your arms, you can go back to doing that, but for now, we're in charge; got it?"

Regina looks at Robin, who stretches his eyes wide and smiles.

She shrugs as the doctor steps into the room and closes the door behind himself. "I guess it's a little late to complain now."

Aradia almost smiles. "That it is, Your Majesty."

Robin offers encouragement. "She'll be fine with it in a few minutes. You said it yourself. She's used to being one in charge."

Weil flashes his smile as he washes his hands in the room's wash basin and then bathes them with isopropyl alcohol before he snaps on latex gloves and prepares to examine his patient. "Well, for the next half hour or so, I think… Yes, good news! You are finally ready to go, Regina. It won't be long now. For the next half hour or so, let us take charge. We're all going to give this little girl everything she needs to arrive safely."

Regina focuses on Robin, and he takes her hand gently in his.

Weil addresses the midwives. "How long ago did her water break."

Beatrice answers. "Approximately three minutes ago."

He nods. "That's good. Regina, I want you to listen to the sound of my voice. I want you to concentrate on what we ask you to do, when we ask you to do it. Stay calm. If there's any worrying to be done, you let us do it for you."

Regina scoffs.

Robin chuckles as he rubs the back of his neck. "Eh, Doc? Have you met your patient?"

"I know. That's a fairly large request. But that's what we're here for, and everything looks good."

"It does?" Regina can't quite keep the trace of disbelief out of her voice.

"Right now, everything is fine. And there's no point in worrying about what hasn't happened. It won't do you or Princess Norah any good. With the next contraction, we push for ten seconds then rest, okay?"

Regina nods but then surprises everyone when she says, "Hold on. Wait." She turns to Robin. "Go see Norah."

Robin arches an eyebrow high with incredulity and rephrases the comment for the sake of clarity. "You want me to go see Norah, now?"

"Yes, now! As opposed to when I'm pushing. Go!"

"Regina, love, what is so important that I have to go now?"

"We've only had a limited amount of exposure to time travel. I can't guarantee that this is how it's going to work, but it's likely that the first breath she takes independently of me, her older self will cease to be, at least in this time anyway. You can't let her leave without saying goodbye for both of us. What if something happens and she winds up in the wrong place?"

"We don't have to say goodbye. She will be right here with us… Just smaller."

Regina groans "Robin! You do not have time to argue with me! You will go hug our daughter!"

He's already moving through the door before she demands, "Now!"

Without saying a word, Beatrice shakes her head.

"What?" You three may be in charge of me and this baby right now, but I'm still his wife!"

Aradia bursts out laughing.

Robin must search briefly to find his family. When he unexpectedly enters the library, he finds concern on the faces of many, not the least of which is his daughter. "No," He pats the air. "We're just getting started. Everything is okay. Regina sent me."

"Sent you for what?" Roland queries from his place on a sofa between Norah and Henry

Robin kneels before the boy, reaching out to touch each of them. "She told me to come out here and hug all of you and thank the three of you for taking such good care of her."

Roland's nods but looks around in time to catch the mildly suspicious looks on the faces of his brother and sister.

Robin grins sheepishly. Aware that he's caught in a half-truth, he stands and motions them to their feet. He hugs the trio while making meaningful eye contact with King Henry. Before stepping away, he kisses the top of his daughter's head. "Thank you for coming." He says quietly.

"You don't have to thank me."

"Your mum seems to think you won't be here much longer."

"Probably not."

"Do you need an escort? In case you wind up in the wrong place?"

Zelena leaves her chair across the library and approaches, eager to hurry him on his way. "Eliana will have to return with her and, unless I'm mistaken, deities can communicate with one another across time and space. I'm not quite sure how it works yet but…"

Eliana nods. "Don't worry. If we wind up someplace bad, I'll send up a cosmic flare, so to speak. If Mum doesn't get it, Aradia will."

Robin nods and squeezes her hand. I've got to get back."

Norah smiles. "You better hurry. Who's gonna cut the cord if you're not there. Tell Mom we will be fine. I got here. I can find my way home too."

Already departing, he says over his shoulder, "Of course, you can, but if you need us, just yell. We'll come running, I promise."

* * *

Back in her bedchamber, the doctor is counting aloud, and Robin finds his wife propped up on her elbows, mid-contraction. Hurrying to the other side of the bed, he quietly thanks his mother, and once she moves aside, he tucks himself in behind Regina. Momentarily surprised by the force with which she leans into him, he leaves one knee on the mattress, and places the opposite foot on the floor for support as he chuckles and accuses lightly, "Hey, what's the big idea? Are you starting the party without me?"

Red-faced and breathless, Regina pants, "Had to."

Weil finishes his count. "Eight, nine, ten. Deep breath, and rest."

Regina slumps backward, resting against Robin. "She took her sweet time getting ready, but now she wants out."

Robin nods. "Well, I'm ready if you are."

Regina sucks in another deep breath as she laughs. "I don't think it matters if we're ready."

"Don't talk, love. Just rest while you can."

Scarcely a minute goes by before she sits up again, the doctor begins his countdown anew, and they repeat the process. "One, two, three… you're doing great, Regina."

She rolls her eyes and waits for the word 'ten."

After the third repetition, she asks Weil, "Could you try to sound a little less like a cheerleader with a minor in freshman Psychology."

The doctor shrugs, "There's a reason we obstetricians sound this way. Most mothers find it comforting.

"Are you sure about that? Maybe most of them are just too polite to tell you how ludicrous you sound."

Robin intercedes gently. "Let's be nice to the man, shall we, milady?"

Weil chuckles. "Not necessary. I've heard far worse. I have a pretty thick skin."

"You don't have to guide me through it like I'm three years old. Just tell me when I can stop."

"Fair enough."

But after another two repetitions, Regina loses some of her vigor and, with it, goes some of the acid on her tongue. She lies back limply in Robin's embrace and lets him wipe her brow with a cool towel.

"Doctor, her temperature and pulse rate are climbing." Beatrice declares, moving her hand from Regina's radial artery to her carotid.

Weil nods. "She's alright. Let me know if.."

"No, I'm not." Regina argues breathlessly. My back hurts really… Oh, ow, ow ow… the rest of her words blend together in a scream as she tries to rise and bear down once more.

"No, no, no" Weil suddenly says. "Stop. Regina, stop pushing! You have to stop!"

"I can't!" Regina grunts, and shakes her head listlessly.

"Listen to me. You have to stop. I know everything in your body is telling you not to, but you must stop. Your baby is in trouble. I can help her, but I need you to wait. I'll work as fast as I can, but you've got to wait. OK? Can you do that for me?"

"What's wrong?" Robin demands: fear in his voice as he clings to his wife.

"Can you see her?" Regina hums in pain.

"We see her, dear." Beatrice affirms. "You've got to wait."

"What's wrong?" She watches the three people on the opposite side of the bed exchange a silent look

"I'll explain everything momentarily." Weil says calmly. "Right now, I need you on your left side. Right now, Regina. Let's go ladies."

Robin moves with them, making sure to stay near his wife as they make the necessary adjustments due to the change in her position on the bed. First, they ease her onto her left side, and then Aradia kneels on the floor beside the bed, placing Regina's right foot against her shoulder.

"Talk to her, Robin. Distract her." Aradia encourages. "You're okay, Regina. We'll get her moving again soon." The old mage places a feminine but withered hand low on Regina's abdomen and it begins to glow very faintly – a dazzling blue-white color. "I'm sorry. I know it hurts. But right now, Norah needs you to wait. We're got a wee bit of a problem here. Just a little tiny one."

"Just wait, love. Just hold on." Robin smiles and kisses the hand he holds. "You can do this. I know you can."

Regina nods and hums miserably, "Robin, I'm so…"

"Hey, no. None of that! No apologies allowed!"

"But I thought we'd…"

"We will. We're going to be just fine; you and me, and the three best kids in Storybrooke – or anywhere else for that matter. We're going to do this. And later, when you're feeling up to it, we're going to make a special trip to Boston to go out to dinner; just the two of us."

"We are?"

He nods. "Wait and see."

"Where are we going?"

"Casa Tua."

"Robin?" She scowls. "It takes four or five months just to get a reservation at Casa Tua."

"Yeah? Well, that's okay. I figure it's going to be at least that long before you're ready to let Norah out of your sight overnight."

Regina smiles and then winces in response to an alarming increase in pressure.

Aware of the tension in her body, Weil replies evenly. "You're okay."

"Just breathe." Robin coaches without taking his eyes off her. Gently, he pushes hair soaked with perspiration away from her face.

"You'll make reservations."

"Already did."

"You did?"

He nods.

"You have to get the good table."

"Got the good table." He smiles and whispers, "All you gotta do is show up."

"I'll be there."

You better be. I'm not going to spend the night in some swanky hotel room all by myself, you know. If you stand me up, I'll have to find myself some cheap little tart to take along."

Regina groans in misery even as she laughs. "I will haunt your ass, Robin Locksley!"

"Yeah, I know you will. So, what do you say we both try and avoid that?"

Weil interrupts, "Okay Regina. A little push. Just a little one and then you must stop again, understand?"

Regina nods. In agony but determined; she pushes.

Weil encourages. "Good, good, good, a little more… Okay, stop! Hold on to her Robin. It won't take but another … second."

"I know, dear. Hold on." Beatrice coaxes and then informs Weil, "She can't stay like this much longer."

"She doesn't have to. Robin, prop her up, and get ready."

It's okay now?" Regina pants restlessly.

"Yes. It's okay, but we've got to get her out as quickly as possible. So, a big push on three, understand?"

Regina turns worried eyes to Robin.

"It's okay. I'm right here. You can do this."

Regina takes a deep breath. Shoving herself up onto one elbow, she presses her shoulders against the wall of Robin's chest and frowns curiously. Distracted by a new raw pain, she moans, even as the pain shifts and relocates. "My back."

"Better?" Weil asks."

She nods and then changes her mind. "I don't know if it's better, or if the pain just moved someplace else."

"Yes. The baby is turned around the right way now."

"Oh god!" Regina cries. "She was breech?"

"No. I'm sorry. I should've phrased that better. She just needed to roll over. She's a smart little girl. She got herself straightened out as soon as we freed her up a bit. It wasn't choking her yet, but I could feel her umbilical cord tightening. She got a little tangled up. She's free now, but she needs to breathe. So, we're going to count to three, and then I want you to push as hard as you can. Ready? One… Two… Three… Push!"

Regina bears down with all she's got, and Robin leans into her, giving her something to push against as she screams.

Weil encourages, "That's it. That's it. Keep going. Don't stop."

Aradia smiles. "We've got one shoulder out."

Beatrice gently pats Regina's knee. "One more, and then she'll come."

Regina draws one last ragged breath and calls on the last of her strength.

* * *

Down the corridor, the people in the library cannot hear the words being quietly spoken by those in the bedchamber, but when Roland frowns and announces, "Hey, weird! Norah, I can see through you!" Eliana and J.J. quickly cross the room; each one of them eagerly making physical contact with her.

Norah smiles at Roland and squeezes Henry's hand. "Don't be scared, okay? It's just time for me to go, that's all."

Roland clings to her. "Where are you going? Can I come too?"

Norah runs transparent fingers through his hair, and he smiles because she does it just the same as Regina always does. "You should stay here, Roland. I'm not going far. I'll be right down the hall any second now."

She has just enough time to blow her grandfather a kiss. As she fades into invisibility, a newborn child takes her first breath and wails tremulously from the room at the farthest end of the hall.


	26. Chapter 26

* * *

**Epilogue**

**Kingdom of Covarrachia**

**Mourning Dale Palace**

**Three Months Later**

Robin grimaces at his reflection in the full-length mirror before him as a quiet knock sounds at the doorway to his private chambers.

"It's open."

His father-in-law strides in with a thick woolen tea towel tossed over his shoulder to protect the finery of his royal garb, and with Robin's bright-eyed three-month-old daughter nestled securely in his arms.

"I won't be much longer, Henry."

"I'm not here to hurry you along. Somebody wants to see her daddy."

At news of this, Robin turns and scoops the curly-headed child up into his arms and dances around the room with her in a quick flourish. "How's my firefly this afternoon?"

Henry imparts, "The nanny was determined to have her nap through today's ceremony, but it seems young Norah has ideas of her own."

"Well, that's no surprise to anyone, or at least it shouldn't be. She doesn't want to take a nap now. She wants to wait until about 4:00 or 5:00 this afternoon. She'll sleep for two or maybe three hours, and then, at midnight, when everybody else wants to sleep, she'll be wide awake and singing arias. Isn't that right, sweetheart?"

The baby smiles and blows bubbles in her own saliva.

Robin chuckles as he helps himself to the towel over Henry's shoulder and wipes the drool off his daughter's chin.

There's another quiet tap at the door and a young maid enters. She curtsies and explains, "I've come for the princess. If she's going to attend the ceremony, she'll have to be dressed properly."

Robin holds his tongue in cheek and hands his daughter over.

As soon as the door closes behind the maid, he takes the formal coat from his dressing stand and shrugs into it. "Henry be honest. Does the public really care that much about what infants wear to a royal ceremony?"

"Depends on the infant. If it’s one of theirs, there's no question there is significantly less pressure. If, however, the infant in question is the crown princess to one of the region's most prominent kingdoms; then yes, I'm afraid the people of said kingdom care far too much."

"Why? What does it matter if she wears the finest lace or linen? She's just going to spit up all over it… Just the same as any other three-month-old."

"I'm afraid that's one of the mysteries of life. One that I have yet to figure out, my boy. Though I suspect it has something to do with clinging too diligently to something they believe they do understand when, and if, they come to realize that there is far more to successfully running a kingdom than many of them have ever fathomed."

"The intricacies of economics, trade, foreign relations? That sort of thing?"

"To name a few."

Robin chuckles. "Henry, I have only a novice's grasp on those topics myself… And that's being somewhat generous."

"Yes, but you're very civic-minded, and I think, with that, there comes a natural-born curiosity to have a better understanding of anything that will help you serve the people in ways far greater than simply having your daughter dominate the latest postnatal fashion trends."

"One should hope."

"Robin, you do look tired."

Robin chuckles. "Bone weary is more like it."

I feel as if there hasn't been a single moment's rest for the last three months. "First it was laying claim to a small village and reordering the distribution of its resources. Then a minor skirmish against a misogynistic buffoon and his rancid followers who are utterly terrified of anything that is magical or even simply beyond their personal level of understanding. That was followed closely by the birth of my daughter. Followed by the Marchioness's funeral. Then her widower had to be relocated here to Mourning Dale. Proper care and supervision for him had to be arranged. And since then, it's been one ceremony after the other. First, an official flag lowering ceremony. Closely followed by a flag raising ceremony; signifying Elyria's new allegiance with Covarrachia. There have been subsequent summit meetings with all the neighboring kingdoms since then. There's been a formal naming ceremony – and, by the way, that particular ceremony needs to be called something different. Its purpose was basically to formally introduce an infant child to this and surrounding kingdoms as the newest member of a royal bloodline. Which, if you'll forgive me for saying so, boils down to bragging rights. It's not as if the people of Covarrachia actually helped name my daughter, but with all the pomp and circumstance, you would think they had. Now I'm getting dressed for another ceremony, which is basically meant to facilitate another boring formal introduction. The movers and stewards will be in Elyria tomorrow to close down the house and clean and prepare most of the artwork housed there for public viewing. And that's just what's going on in this realm. In Storybrooke, Henry's class field trip to Boston's historical museum got preempted when a couple of the kids decided to try, and 'tag' a beloved landmark. Now, their mayor's office is calling our mayor's office. Emma and David are still trying to apprehend the mysterious bean thief, and Gold is trying to revamp the laws regarding liquor distribution in town, which is making life at the Lucky Feather interesting… to say the least. I'm telling you, Henry, I've just about had it with all this diplomacy. I'd like nothing more than to crawl into a deep dark hole and sleep like Rip Van Winkle."

Henry nods his understanding. "Just focus on getting through the next two hours. Once we get you officially sworn in as Marquis. You and that merry band of friends you have, can grab your gear and disappear for a week; into any local forest you choose."

Robin checks his reflection one last time before he heads for the door. Holding it open to allow the older man to pass through first, he admits, "I don't need to disappear. I would settle for a week at home with my feet in front of the fire."

As they walk the palace corridors en route to the largest of Mourning Dale's courtyards for Robin's formal swearing-in, Henry chuckles. "If you desire even a small amount of privacy for said week, I daresay the safer bet would be for you to head for the trees. This realm, or that one, people know where you live."

Along the way, they are briefly joined by household staff with last-minute tidbits of information to share or comments to make, as well as the housekeeper, who has just a few final questions regarding meal preparations for the reception to follow the ceremony. Once on the ground floor of the palace, they are quickly joined by the children. Robin straightens young Henry's cravat and inspects Roland's hands for traces of dirt. Just before he reaches the double doors leading out into the courtyard, the nanny approaches and places his daughter in his arms. Wearing a ridiculously extravagant dress that weighs nearly as much as she does, Norah fusses cantankerously until Robin smiles down at her and makes a few silly faces for the sole purpose of putting a smile on her face.

When the footman gestures toward the door, Robin shakes his head and then inhales deeply. "Just another moment please."

The footman bows without a word.

While they wait, they fall into line, forming what will make a proper processional with King Henry in the lead, and Roland and Henry standing shoulder to shoulder in the rear.

Robin doesn't visibly relax until he hears the faint but recognizable sound of heels tapping against the stone floor. The instant after he catches a whiff of intimately familiar perfume, the last remaining member of their party steps into view in all her regal splendor, her head tilted to one side as she fastens a shimmering earring into place.

Reading both tension and boredom in his eyes, Robin's wife smiles. "Are you ready, thief?"

Nodding to the footman, Robin takes her hand in his.

"I am now." He whispers for her ears only as the doors open and they step out into the November sunlight to greet the people.


End file.
